


no grave can hold my body down (i'll crawl home to her)

by zialless



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Dance, Eggsy is in this because everyone loves eggsy!, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, New York City, hes a boxer lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 03:57:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8517637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zialless/pseuds/zialless
Summary: zayn doesn’t know if should keep doing what he loves, or rather, do the one thing he’s confident he’s good at. but then again, experiencing pain every kind of way that life has to provide, how can he?
  
  zayn loses everything he loves, and somehow still wins.





	

**Author's Note:**

> wow! it's been long and i highly doubt people read ziall or one direction fics anymore but i am always down to take one for the team! 
> 
> anyways, this has been something ive been working on. and writing this...ive grown to appreciate dancers so much. i love you guys, you guys r so strong n the stuff u guys do isnt easy at all. n i hope if any of u read this, dont feel insulted or whatev lmao
> 
> a bit of this fic was influenced by the movie whiplash, as well as my own experiences when it comes to dedicating ones self while being in a difficult situation. so i hope this was in no way romanticized bc thts the last thing i want, since i deal with it personally. 
> 
> also, i hope i dont offend anybody writing a certain character with a certain mental disability. i really wanted to portray it, solely bc i didnt know anything about it and writing it was my way of learning about it. i did some research on it but if my portrayal of it isnt right or offends you, please tell me
> 
> title comes from hozier's song, "work song" 
> 
> i apologize for any typos i missed, pls tell me if u catch any!
> 
> appreciate the kudos/comments a lot (:
> 
> REAL NOTE: there's flashbacks to zayns old life during the present, also lets pretend niall works even tho i dont mention it, and everything in the present takes place in one year, compared to the confusing shit ive written (i really suck with time... im sorry with this mess. im happy with this mess tho)

He lets out a final breath, not meaning to let enervation show through his heaving chest and flared nostrils. _Attitude_ , their teacher would yell. A pose he's been taught. He keeps in balance, letting the other leg extend with his knee marginally arced, and slowly, he lets it out straight. _Tour lent._ He counts the remaining seconds from his speakers, _You Should Be Here_ by _Kehlani_ playing aloud, making every second of his slow turn count until his extended leg is behind him, his arm reaching far. He's visualizing his door—the door that leads to his happy place—his room. His fingers can almost sfeel it; scraping the cold brass of his door knob.

Like a gunshot from the back, he falls forward—his arm breaking his own fall. He’s not afraid to let his chest cave in and out, let his breaths shoot out from his lungs. Nothing but the foul taste of metallic fills in his mouth. Don't practice so hard, his dad would say. Zayn would reply, I’m fine as he goes eight straight hours. He has to anyway. Nobody would like him slipping away from his roots. Not even for a mere second; because someone like him in the New York Ballet Company can't truly find rest.

It's a quarter after nine when Zayn has his gym bag hanging by his shoulder, his clothes packed in, and his body glistening of perspiration as he walks out the studio. The air of New York City meets him quick; it slips through his hair and sticks against his face. He thinks about the hours on the clock, wondering about the extra hours he puts into staying at the studio. It's a home now—only because he hasn't installed a barre into his apartment to use. And it lacks useable space for him to kick his leg out without feeling an object at the end of his toes. It's not the best place to do anything. If he's paying $870 a month for rent, consider something broken or a bit off.

He sits in a cold bath, letting his muscles relax to the point that he won't mind falling asleep in the bath. He can feel the stress of his arms and legs slowly recede, and feel the rush up his spine that gets him to close his eyes.

Not until his phone is ringing, and he carefully frisks the floor for it.

"Yeah." Zayn lulls inaudibly to himself, listening the water trickle as he lifts his arm up.

"Jerking off, are we?" Liam asked him with a lewd tone, and a laugh is escaping Zayn. "Should I leave you to it?"

"I just got home." Zayn grimaces in disgust, or it might be a smirk. "Is there something you need?"

"Just wondering if you've eaten dinner yet." Liam mutters bothered. It seems like a best friend can’t call another best friend. "It's Thai night.” It isn’t—Liam just likes themes for each night.

"No, I haven't." Zayn straightens his leg into the water.

"Cool. Dress your best." Liam sings daintily.

"It's just dinner." Zayn curls his toe. "Are we going out afterwards?"

"Just dress up, will you?"

"Um, yeah. Alright.”

Zayn has a few button downs he could use. He has a lot to wear under the circumstances of being nice. Although, there's super nice like a tuxedo and nice like a suit jacket and Zayn doesn't know what scale of nice he's supposed to be in. There’s nothing in between.

Zayn came to know Liam in high school in their sophomore years. The first time they met was in band class, and Liam accidentally blew the trombone so loud, Zayn laughed to the point his eyes were tearing. They both nearly failed the class. At least not high school.

From time to time it hurts to go out but he's gotten used to the pain his body he's in. He's stretched out his tendon already through the repetition of lifting bodies above his head. Still, for somebody that's been doing it for more than 10 years—Zayn's required to do certain things and pass limits that kills his body slowly. There's always going to be sacrifices for something you love; Zayn's giving up his life.

He wore a button down, closed the buttons up to his neck and wore jeans without any kinds of holes on the area of the thighs or knees. Liam did say nice; but it's only dinner at a Thai restaurant. There's no such thing as super nice. Even if the decoration makes him feel inadequate.

He recognizes Liam at a table already, only to be sitting with somebody else across from him. It takes him only a few seconds reaching the table, and he can't decide whether to act normal and sit across from Liam like he always does, and risk the confusion and worry by sitting beside someone else, or sit beside Liam and make the other guy feel perturbed.

The clenching smile to Liam quickly sends Zayn's friend on his feet. Zayn can't recognize who it is; it's just some guy with blond hair and rosy cheeks sitting there with a smile just as tight as his.

"Uh, Zayn." Liam gestures towards his friend sitting down. "This is Niall Horan. He's studying abroad from Ireland. First year."

"Hi." Zayn greets him with an inattentive voice. Niall loses his bright smile—the small smile that Zayn first noticed when he came in. "I'm Zayn Malik. Sorry I'm late."

"Hey." Niall slides more inside of the booth. That must mean Zayn is sitting his side today.

As if the atmosphere wasn't uncomfortable enough at first for Zayn to see someone else sitting with Liam, now it's mute as everybody looks through the menu. Yet, it's never actually been quiet between him and Liam like this. Regularly, they'd talk about having something other than Pad Thai because they need to be diverse like that. On the other hand, Zayn doesn't really need to be complex about his food. He just needs to eat by the book in order to keep his figure going.

Once they've ordered, Zayn stares at Liam, sensing Niall's expression from Liam's face when Liam is able to see the both of them. Maybe it's not going so well when they two are sitting so far away from each other—the gap filled by Niall’s jacket.

"So." Liam tries to sound ebullient. "How's your day, Zayn?"

"Long." Zayn shrugs indifferently compared to what he’s going through. "The routines from the past were fairly easy. I guess it's different when the story is about the ballerina always being alone." Whoever she turns to, they've left her behind to long for them.

"It's quite deeper from the rest I've seen." Liam nods in affirmation with Zayn. "Swans and whatnot. Nutcrackers and princesses."

"It's more contemporary." Zayn describes. Meanwhile, Niall's nodding and trying to fill in the missing pieces of this conversation. Sitting across him to notice was no one other than Liam. Zayn's too focused on the lights.

"Sorry, Niall. We haven't quite explained it." Liam suddenly jerked forward in excitement. "Zayn dances for the New York Ballet Company. Impressive, yeah?"

"No shit." Niall's eyes practically gaped in marvel. Reactions like that are never humbling—he likes when people realize that he out of the hundreds that auditioned, they were talking to one that made it in.

"Niall dances too." Liam adds. That’s a change in conversation.

"No, no. You guys can..." Niall waves his hand and steers farther away from them, his hand playing with the fork.

"Ballet as well?" Zayn asks with a peaked interest, slightly turning his head to look at him. Though, he doesn't look as built for it.

"Somewhat. I do Jazz." Niall answers, smiling sheepishly. "It's a hobby at least. I don't have much of a confidence to see myself go far. I mean, from what I can tell already, you're amazing."

"Yeah! He's great! They get to travel everywhere to perform, and the pay is sick, I've got my bets on that. Zayn never tells me how much he's getting paid, so." Liam adds with enthusiasm. It’s frightening Zayn in certain levels he’s never been in before. Niall must be agreeing when his eyebrows are raised and Zayn could see the sea in his eyes. "He's usually the male lead, but I think that's because of his face."

But there was still something irking Zayn to say, "I've never heard anybody consider Jazz as a hobby." Zayn lowers a brow at Niall. "There's a reason why, I don't know if you understand that."

"I always wanted to do it professionally. But my parents hate it, said it won't get me anywhere, so I'm studying sports therapy. Whatever qualifies as academically rich to my parents."

"Sorry to hear that." Zayn looks down. At least he had choices to choose from.

* * *

"Zayn, you're a beat behind!" The director yells, her voice echoing through the studio. Everyone flinches. "Is this a fucking joke? The show is coming up in less than two days!"

He swallows it down, finding himself a step ahead from the semicircle. He shifts and joins right back into a _coupé_. It's been four hours, and he's heard his name twice with curse words in the same sentence. He's drained, but everybody is too. To complain would mean he's insensible to the privilege he has.

Only to remember the little things, that guy named Niall must've had none not to pursue dance. As his left leg extends straight to the ceiling, he doesn't remember a time he couldn't do any of this. All his life, it's what he's been doing. Constantly moving, never stopping. Every breath that leaves him is spent on him trying to keep up, trying to not to look as drained as he really is.

All in all, there's something about dancing that keeps him going, knows that he's truly alive if he can feel his heart pounding through his chest as he leaps across the floor and immediately he’s down on a knee where he turns and goes right back up. He loves it truly. Explicitly to be up on stage where everyone's eyes are glued on him, moving graceful as ever. There's a story to tell, and nobody can illustrate it better than the way Zayn can.

It's an early finish to his practice when his ankle feels a bit erroneous. Zayn calls it the monthly ankle pain, since it so happens to be haunting him for a few months now. It lasts a week and somehow it disappears until another four weeks, and he's sat on his bed with his leg out with an ankle brace. It seems so early in the month to be coming again.

Though all he can think about is the show. Often, the company tours around the state—sometimes even Europe and Asia, so Zayn's been around the world before 25 and it's exciting. But he's longing for New York and its greasy food and musty streets. He's glad to be back home. Shows back home usually means his family and friends are there to watch. It's in two nights and it's not even what's caught his mind in such a storm. He heard his name twice, felt the cold tone of his teacher and the disappointment she had against him. To have to yell at him two days before their performance. She's never had to do it before, and he can't stop feeling so much pique inside of him, clawing the walls of his chest to get out.

"So today, I think she's finally acknowledged me." Liam looks at Zayn with so much confidence. What a true friend he really is—had gotten take out for the both of them to share in Zayn's room as Zayn rests his leg on his bed so his ankle would be free from pressure, even if Zayn’s not a big enthusiast of eating in his room. He anticipates leaving the take out containers until tomorrow to clean out. Quite a bad habit.

"The waitress working at the diner on the West 14th Street?" Zayn jabs his fork into the container of fries. Just how he likes it—chilli flakes, garlic powder, Italian seasoning, and pepper. He should really pay Liam back sometime. Except he does with ballet tickets, and he’s very much aware that Liam falls asleep through them.

"Don't call her a waitress." Liam snarls quickly and defensive. He looks cute with a bite of his burger bulging out in his cheek.

Zayn laughs, with a big smile along with it. "I apologize. I meant the pretty lady you stare at who works serving food at Coppelia where they sell ridiculous burgers," Zayn shakes his burger still wrapped up. God, he really loves take out from there. Everything just tastes so good. Even their salads. How odd.

"Apparently not the title for a waitress?" Zayn derides.

"Because her name is Sophia." Liam scoffs, before sipping his drink.

"Sophia doesn't know you know her name." Zayn licks his bottom lip clean.

"Zee, she wears a name tag. I go there nearly every day." Liam looks at him dumbfound.

"Not until now she's finally noticed you?" Zayn raises a brow.

"She said, 'Hi Liam, the usual?'" He sighs afterwards. Zayn shakes his head. Liam has always been delusional. She's a waitress for Christ sake. Of course she'll ask him that.

It's always been the usual order ever since Liam got drunk and needed something to eat at 3AM. Zayn was present where Liam noticed her heart-warming smile and fierce eyes that make him melt on the inside. It's been five months, and he's never said anything but a choice from the menu.

"Say hi, will you?" Zayn starts on his burger. Coppelia is the only place that puts chicharron and sautéed onions in a burger.

"Only, if you get me an extra ticket to your show for Niall." Liam starts to stare with his big, gleaming eyes as he sips his drinks through a straw.

"I could pull a few strings." He shrugs. Not like he's ever say no. Besides, he's not a bad person to deny ballet tickets. However, no one really asks for tickets to watch a show.

"Sweet. He'll love it."

"How did you two meet?"

He leans back on his pillow, waiting to hear about a momentous time at some party. Liam mentions beer and Zayn slowly drifts away from the conversation. It's hard to listen when the last party he had gone to was six months ago. It seems like a tragedy. You'd think ballet kids would throw one after another through a series of successful shows. In reality, everyone just wants to be home, resting their bodies for another day in the studio. Hell, if science kids and English nerds can party, why can't he?

"Know any good ones coming up?" Zayn shrugs a shoulder.

There's a twinkle in Liam's eye that makes Zayn regret this quick. He smiles and nearly jumps up in his seat. "I'll let you know when one comes up. Maybe we could have one at my place, after your performance."

"Just the two of us? That's a bit sad, isn't it?"

"Niall will be there too. Maybe you can invite your ballet friends."

"I shouldn't bother them. They have a lot of things to get to." Zayn shakes his head, casually rotating his ankles. His mind doesn't know he's exercising at all. "Why don’t we celebrate at the diner?”  
  
“That’s not interesting enough for us to celebrate.” Liam grimaces at the same time he tosses a wrapper at Zayn.  
  
“If your darling waitress is there,” Zayn suggests as he throws the wrapper back. “It’ll be a four party.”  
  
“Sophia! Her name is Sophia!”  
  
“Would you happen to know her last name as well?” Zayn snorts and shakes his head.  
  
Liam laughs deeply before he answers, “Payne.”

* * *

Luckily, Zayn has managed to find the time before the night of the show to call his cousin Haider. He lives in Paris—far enough Zayn can't visit him from time to time like if he lived in New Jersey. The last time he's seen him was two years ago.

Realistically, they're cousins. Figuratively, Zayn has thought of him as nothing but his brother who lives at a far distance from him. If there's anyone to give the credit where it's due, it's Haider.

"Good luck, bruv. Don't choke." Haider is joking. Zayn knows that if he chokes, he'll be in big trouble.

"I won't. How about you? Are you alright?" Zayn looks out his window, watching the taxis honk at each other.

"Definitely. I don't have time for anything, but I'm definitely great."

Using definitely twice sounded like Haider was convincing himself he was. Zayn is nodding along but he's skeptical as always. He's the one who couldn't be convinced but he never likes to push Haider to really say what's on his mind because he knows when he's at the edge of his mind, he'll pick up the phone and call Zayn to tell him all about how he drove the entire night to think.

"It just sort of feels like a job or a chore." Haider begins to spill. Just like Zayn anticipated. "As if I'm doing this because I have to. That thrill and flourishing emotion isn't there anymore, Zayn."

"I'm there too, mate. But we have to. We gotta stick to it." Zayn looks down to the railing of his balcony. "When's the last time you slept a full eight hours?"

"A week ago." Haider laughs with his breath. It doesn't sound fun or happy.

"Take a break." Zayn shakes his head.

"No way. I-I can't. You know I can't." His voice starts to shake. "I have to do this. You believe in me, right?"

"How could I not? You taught me."

"And you dance like an absolute twit."

"Fuck off." Zayn starts to laugh.

"I will. Break's over."

"Haider—"

"Later Zayn."

* * *

"Are you alright?" A hand upon his shoulder, not a doubt in his mind that it's Leigh asking him. She's been here longer than most of the dancers, so everyone somehow feels like they're her den mother.

She always asks him, always a few minutes prior the shows commence. She's nice, unlike the rest who seem to be in their own world. As Zayn has his leg stretching out over the barre, fingers reaching for his toes—he's no different than anybody else who are talking themselves out of being nervous. He can feel his joints getting cold, his spine tingling as the clock ticks closer to 8.

"Pre-show vibes. You know how it is." Zayn shows his infamous grin. He turns to his other side, lifting his other leg up on the barre.

"At least we look good." Leigh picks at the sheer cover over her bottom leotard. "I feel like a Greek goddess in this thing."

Zayn looks at her outfit—glancing at the gold detailing of her slitted skirt and a lace wrap-around bralette, whatever that is. She's the one to stand out tonight. With gold make up and glitter all over her, of course the audience is going to have their eyes on her. And she seems to be doing fine, smiling and encouraging others not to be afraid.

With the countdown beginning, everyone had to be on stage by 5—in their positions, ready to show the audience what they've prepared and lived for all their lives. It's not a big show—it's not an audition to Julliard where everyone feels the agitation pulsing through their bones. It's a company show, one that happens every so often for the purpose of showing everyone you've succeeded. And even in those cases, you still feel edgy about how it's all going to go—whether you've done five shows or a dozen.

His stomach and back meet. He holds his chin up carefully. A smile wasn't required this time. His eyes are dark and strained. His fingers are claws and his bones are fortified by the pride he take in from the void he leaves Leigh in.

The lights on stage are gold—a feeling of deception as it reflects upon his skin. Perspiration is starting to show on his chest. Every breath he takes is timed carefully. With his body moving like the shadows, his mind his is in another place—another world. He begins to lose his sense of identity as the music seeps through his skin. Eyes are watching the ravage behaviour dragging the innocence from Leigh. It spins and it twists, warped into unimaginable definitions of treachery that she finds herself chasing over and over again.

Inside, there comes a time he always looks back where he could have had a life where somebody's chasing after him, chasing for his affection and attention where he'll always let them catch him. Seeing Leigh's eyelashes curl, the elegance of her shut eyes, and the extension of her leg up high as Zayn holds her in his arms, it's only going to be for that moment before Zayn pulls her to push her away and everybody else, would eventually be parting too.

It's a familiar taste on his tongue that leaves him to wonder if the pain is worth going through. Ballet could be the most beautiful thing to an audience. But to the dancers on stage, it's a slow death to the body. It's a deadly thing to be beautiful.

With such a sharp and sudden ache in his Achilles, he misses a step forward in _pas de chat_ , and his heart is suddenly beat in such a horrifying pace. He can feel one of the dancers close to him, needing him to go ahead. He's out the music and persona, back into reality where it's waking him at his Achilles. He's heaving in reality with the sudden wetness of his eyes reaching the brim. It's when the light dims to a low orange, and the group of three dancers are in their moment of _balançoire_ , Zayn finds the opportunity to walk off the stage limping.

"Zayn's off the stage." He could hear the stage crew reporting into their radio. Zayn's not sure what his name is. It might be Tony—he's heard it a few times. But all he could focus in his the pain in his heel and the repetition of his failure that's going to haunt him. He doesn't know which hurts more.

"My fucking foot." Zayn hisses. He's on the verge of crying as his tears are right at the brim of his eyes.

"What happened?" He asks.

"It's my tendon." Zayn notices the thickness of his tendon. Not once did he think this would impact him in some way at all. It was like a blister or open wound. Bandages and ice would make any wounds all better. But not tendonitis on his Achilles.

"Are you able to walk?" Adam questions. His head is eagerly turning, like he's searching for somebody.

"Yeah. It hurts though.” Zayn’s face knits in tremendous pain.

Through the rest of the night, all he could think about was the pain on his Achilles—a sharp and vivid pain that he has to think about in each and every step he takes. He looks at the ice pack wrapped around his heel, feeling the hot and icy rub they've put on his sore tendon too.

This feeling of failure—he hasn't had it since he was 16 where he fell for the first time in a youth competition that ultimately lead him to work for the New York Ballet Company. If it wasn't for the pity that they've given him before the finals, he wouldn't have been here. And he has been here for almost five years. He can't remember a life without dance—a life without routine, rituals, choreography, and jumping.

Seeing Liam at the end of the hall frantically looking left and right with Niall for him made the tears roll down his face.

"Fuckin' hell." Liam hisses when he crouches down. "Are you alright?"

"No, I'm fucking hurt." As his voice shakes, he tries to look away from Liam when his thumb begins to wipe his tears away.

"You were amazing out there, Zayn." He hears the quiet compliment from Niall and his eyes look up to meet the kindness in his eyes that Zayn can't see right now.

"No," Zayn grits as he cries out in pain. "This is fucking shit."

Yet, he could only think about the pain from his ankle, driving him livid and vexed at the same time. Zayn couldn't celebrate after this—not with in each and every step that he's reminded of what happened. Finally, in so many months, the one moment Zayn was free to be out without ballet on his mind, he's caged back in.

* * *

Swallowing the point of being at the diner was hard. He knew from all the other days and nights that Sophia has worked here, she'd be the one to wait their table and couldn't let the reality of his condition overtake him—not when Liam openly stares at her wherever she goes.

"Lost your words?" Niall asks Liam.  
  
“His tongue maybe.” Zayn tried to put some effort into his emotion. It’s his first time being out with friends since three weeks passed. And Niall might’ve replaced his spot in Liam’s mind.  
  
“I can talk, alright.” Liam turns back to Zayn and Niall staring absently back at him. “Have you guys ever felt… Really intimidated by somebody, like—they’re just really great and all you want to do is make them happy?”  
  
“No.” Zayn answers quietly, choking down the dubious feeling in him.  
  
“Y-yeah, no.” Niall slowly shakes his head. “The happy part yes. Just talk to her.”  
  
“No!” Liam hisses.  
  
When Niall sighed and whispered, “Fuck it.” Zayn inched away from him, leaning closer to the wall. There was the look of agitation on his face that made Zayn wonder how easy Niall cracks.  
  
For Niall to throw his glass of water on Liam—very easy.  
  
“Uh," Zayn drawls. His eyes are searching the diner, only to catch Sophia staring with alarmed eyes.  
  
Liam shoots up from his seat, shirt and crotch soaking wet. He’s cursing at Niall whose lips are pouted out—pretty sure he’s not listening to Liam cussing at him. That’s the plan, because Zayn finds Sophia rushing to their table with a folded towel. Sooner or later, Liam’s leaving to the washroom with Sophia behind him apologizing. Of course, it’s not her fault. It’s Niall’s, and it played off better than he thought. Liam doesn’t look that mad anymore. He shouldn’t be with Sophia on his tail.  
  
“I believe I won’t be seeing you anymore.” Zayn mutters indistinctly in his glass of water.  
  
“He’ll be fine.” Niall laughs. “He’s going to thank me, and you’ll have to third wheel.”  
  
“I can’t third wheel.” Zayn clears his throat after. “I don’t even have time with all the practice.”  
  
“I should say you’re lucky but at the same time, I don’t think you are.” Says Niall. “Just take a break why don't you? Your ankle is calling for it."

“You don’t get to take time off if it’s your life. You don’t get it.” Zayn huffs. His face slightly twists in distaste. "It doesn't hurt anymore. I'm fine."

"I saw your ankle. Your Achilles is swollen. You haven't had any rest at all." Niall shakes his head. "I dance too. But I have my limits."

"We don't have the same limits." Zayn lifts a brow. "You don't know me that well to know and give me advice."

"Is anyone giving you better advice? No? Then maybe you should take it." Niall crosses his arms. "Why don't you start doing some jumps right now, see if you don't start crying."

"I know it hurts. It's my fucking foot." Zayn gestures under the table for it. Then he glares up at Niall. "What's wrong with you? You're so insensitive."

"I'm not insensitive. I'm the one telling you to chill!" Niall laughs so coldly.

Liam came back to a table that wreaked awkward and looked tense too. It's the happy face he's got on that told the two quiet men that it worked out well that they don't need to break their silence to ask. The only one who could break their silence would be Liam.

Seeing both their deadpan face, Liam decides to stick to his side and keep quiet. He should when all Zayn could think about was how did the two of them really meet? Zayn could look back at the details Liam told him about going to a party alone and meeting Niall there. Maybe he shouldn't have dug that deep to find answers about a boy he wouldn’t give the time of day.

"I'm going to go." Zayn blurts out. Liam turns to him and Niall turns his body so Zayn could get out of the booth without having a second thought behind it.

"But you didn't get your food yet." Liam says as he frowns.

"I'm gonna have it for take out." Zayn explains, trying to keep his cool. "My ankle is getting sore again so I'm going to ice it down, rub some icy thing on it."

Liam throws a quick hit at Zayn's arm. "Don't work too hard, okay?"

"Don't worry about me."

Worry? That's all anyone ever does around this god forsaken city. Like Zayn now has to worry about being replaced with an asshole who thinks he could already talk to Zayn like he knows him.

Like he told Niall, his heel somehow already recuperated from the ice bucket he dipped his foot in and the icy-hot rub he smeared all over his Achilles.

Zayn was back in the studio the next morning at exactly 7AM, joining the team for some exercise. As usual, it takes at least an hour for them to stretch their legs out. For starters they work on their foot, so they hold the barre and stand as far as they can without straining their arm and initiate first position. Slowly, they'd build up to the fifth and work on strengthen their toes. Zayn could do this in his sleep.

It isn't all that natural for any of them to be stretching their legs all the way that their toes can touch their head. With Leigh pulling his leg back, he could feel the stretch and somehow ignore the pain behind it all. It's things you get used to as you progress. None of them really started splits by splitting their legs wide open and hopping their ligaments would cooperate. If it was that easy, none of them would be stretching their legs their entire lives, eating healthy, and hurting their body. Especially toes.

Zayn's back is on the floor with Leigh beside him doing the same stretch where their legs are both holding up by the barre. It's supposed to be a break right now but Zayn felt like he hasn't done much to stretch. Leigh just so happens to relax like this, so her slippers are off and Zayn could see the blisters, bandaids, and cracked toes of hers.

"You alright?" Leigh asks.

"Yeah." Zayn blinks slowly.

"You still did great." She says with a smile, and very cautiously quiet. "Don't let it get to your head."

"It just never happened to me before." His lips twist as he looks as his toes. His toes suck too. "But I'll try."

Although Zayn promised himself he'd bear through the week not thinking about his mistake on performance night, the one thing that reminds him has just come back. Faster than before—not even three weeks on his tendon and it's hurting again.

He pushed through the comments to get rest and to sit down. He's always surpassed the pain of it, continuing his _fouetté_ turns, one after another.

" _Illusion_!" The instructor yells. In a swift beat, Zayn finds the once chance to strengthen his working leg and keep it aligned with his torso, and with haste executes the 360 degree spin and pivots his torso down and back up again.

But he nearly falls forward, letting his free-pained foot catch his balance.

"Fuck!" Zayn covers his face. He walks off to the side, letting the sharp words of his instructor stab at his ego. As if Zayn doesn't know he's fucked up again for the hundredth time. Everyone’s watching his life fall apart. They don’t do anything but whisper.

"It's not worth it, Zayn." Leigh says quietly, making space for him to sit down. It's not easy powering through ten fouetté turns and suddenly turning your body upside down just to bring it back straight. His teacher should know that. But she's a witch who lacks all kinds of decency.

"My ankle is killing me." Zayn tries to clench his words down, rubbing at his tendon.

Leigh, who cares enough to sit with him, gives him advice. "You should get it checked out."

"I did. Like five months ago, I went to my doctor."

"That should be gone by now if it's not severe."

"I'm fucked, Leigh." Zayn swallows the tightness in his throat.

"You're not." Leigh quickly grabs him for a hug. "You're gonna do great."

* * *

3 years later.

His parents hate it when he comes back late from work. But they don't hate it when they wake up and there's leftovers for them from the restaurant Zayn works at. Someone like him, a young man with a handsome face shouldn't be caught working a shift on a Saturday night. But someone needs to help manage a restaurant that stays open until 10.

"Zay!" He hears a young voice—one that makes him smile and turn around to see a little boy bounding towards him in a fresh white Ralph Lauren button down top and dark blue jeans.

"Hello Theo." Zayn coos. Once he picks him up, they give each other high fives.

"Hi Zayn." He hears another familiar voice, and he's met with Theo's mom, Denise. "How are your parents?"

"They're doing fine." Zayn smiles. He's supposed to be heading out to work but he's not to be there until forty minutes and it only takes him a mere few minutes by train.

"Play?" Theo babbles.

"Sorry, little babe." Zayn pouts out his lips. "I have work."

"I see later?"

Zayn laughs. "Maybe tomorrow."

"I've been meaning to ask you." Denise has a slight frown. "Would you mind playing with Theo sometime? Greg is really busy and you're good with kids. It's alright if you say no. Waliyha said she’ll be able to do it."

"I don't mind." He shows a tight grin. "Good for catch up time, right buddy?"

"Ketchup."

"Yeah." Zayn laughs and lets him down.

With two minutes to spare with his co-worker and best friend Eggsy badgering in about punctuality, in those free minutes, he finds the second to shove him against the wall before putting his chef jacket on. There's a rule about bothering the staff in the front of the house, but Eggsy shouldn't be at the back either.

"You're such a dick." Eggsy complains. His real name is Gary but Zayn knows a Gary and he tries not to get the both of them mixed up.

"Who's taking you to that Nets and Cavaliers game?” Zayn pries rhetorically.

"... Er..." Eggsy stutters.

"What's that?" Zayn snorts.

"You are!" He snaps. "Now fucking leave me alone. I've got tables to serve. Bloody pig."

"You sound like the Queen of England." Zayn laughs and ties his hair up. He puts on the chef hat because the kitchen gets pretty steamy and hot. Not even in sexy terms.

"That is super fucking stereotypical of you!" Eggsy turns back waving a menu around towards him.

For six hours, Zayn's stuck in kitchen duty as prep. He's surprised he hasn't cut his fingers off yet with the chef yelling at everybody to go faster. _Brunoise,_ _Zayn!_ Okay dude! _Julienne! Thinner!_ Alright!

He never thought he'd find himself in a five star restaurant with a pretty face to be working in the back. Honestly, he'd rather work with tips than sweat in his undershirt, chopping vegetables and onions, hoping he doesn't cry.

The only time for a break is when it's 8PM and Zayn's going out the back with a small plate of parmesan chicken and sweet potatoes and it's only for 5 minutes. Working in the kitchen, the one thing he's learned is that a sweet potato is still actually a carb. With less carbs anyway. Supposed that's good. Not like he's watching his figure anymore.

"Zayn, get back in here!" Eggsy yells from the back door. Zayn drops his fork back in his bowl, jaw dropped.

"What the hell?" Zayn exclaims.

"You're gonna love it." He laughs fruitily. "Jesy is scraping it out with a customer."

Now that's something he wants to see. The two of them run towards the door where a few of the waitresses have a horrified expression on their face.

"I can't believe you guys would add the tip in already! $100 for dinner?" This old man yells. "Where's your manager?"

"For the last time, I am the manager, sir." Jesy huffs. "And we did not include your tip into the bill."

Zayn felt really bad with the way everyone stared at Jesy as if she's the bad guy in all of this. The employees knew tip is only added if the customer wishes to tip. They weren't the kind of place that would add tip to the bill and not say so at all. Maybe the old man had problems in which Zayn could understand why he's lashing out at Jesy. Or, this man is just really impolite.

Jesy already had pressure on her from their boss to get more customers in and make the service quicker since there were some complaints that it takes too long. It doesn't necessarily take 2 minutes to make roasted lamb if thats what the Upper East side of Manhattan thinks.

"Sir, it's $100. You ordered the wine and the four-course. The wine is $40 and the four-course is $60." Jesy explains thoroughly one more time.

Eggsy starts to scoff. "I'd spit in his food, to be honest."

Zayn knows she's about to crack. He could see her taking deep breaths as her fingers rub at her temple. Yeah, she's the manager. But Zayn knows how it feels to be yelled at. It makes him small and inferior. The old man doesn't find the black suit attire all that intimidating, Zayn guesses.

He's the one with the guts to join Jesy at the table. Sees the relief in her eyes before he looks the old man in the eye. "Sir, if you don't pay the $100, we can call the police right now and they could be the one working it out with you."

"You're cheating me off my money." The old man says accusingly.

"No one is cheating you off." Zayn says calmly. "You can pay the $110, or we could file assault charges on the manager here and make you pay more than $300."

Maybe using the softer tone helps because the old man is finally opening his wallet and taking out his debit to slam on the table. "Everyone is suddenly a fucking lawyer."

"Thank you." Jesy takes the receipt, too scarred to even read. Clearly no tip, the old man was seriously livid.

The commotion slowly died down and Zayn and Jesy were left at the side to cool off. More or less that she wasn't angry at the old man yelling at her. This time she was quite frightened. Everyone knows how old people could be—they could be the nicest or rudest people you'll ever meet.

Sipping her water, she leaned off the wall, giving a vacant grin to Zayn before she walked towards the back. So much for a break, everything lasted twenty minutes and most of it was Eggsy hissing and laughing at the background. He really is an asshole.

"Zayn?" He heard a voice. His arms fall to the side before he could turn to look at who's really mature voice is that—and figure out that it's the one that used to call him all the time.

"Liam?" Zayn breathes out.

"I knew it was you!" He laughs.

"What are you doing here?" Zayn let his eyebrows knit in. It was a surprise to see Liam at the Upper East Side of Manhattan when they both used to hang out to together at the West.

"I'm having my 2 year anniversary with Sophia.” She was at a table, waiting for Liam to come back. She matured—they both did.

"So it seems like it all worked out." Zayn mumbles quietly.

"So where have you been for the last two years?" Liam laughs shakily. "One minute you were there, and then the next minute you're here."

He knew what he was doing, he knew Liam still holds everything against him to this day. "Liam, I'm kind of busy right now." Zayn rubs his nape.

Then there was the disappointment on Liam's face that Zayn had anticipated for. "Y-yeah, okay. See ya then. We'll hang out."

Zayn quickly broke off and left right back to the kitchen where everybody was too busy and preoccupied to ask what happened out there just now. A lot of things, even if it only lasted twenty seconds.

* * *

Zayn doesn’t know what the difference is between his memories and his nightmares.

Seeing everybody else that night on the newly choreographed performance of _La Bayader_  made him feel like that life was a playground at school, that he was just a mere child. Watching from the theatre seats for the first time, this is what it felt like to be watching against the sidelines, seeing all the other kids playing at the sandbox and all Zayn could think of is why they won't let him play.

It was the stupid shit on his ankle that had him sitting between two families where their daughter almost fell asleep on him while the other son at the other side of his arm was leaning forward. The funny thing is about this injury; it wasn't an excuse to get some kind of treatment so he could show off to everyone his new battle scar. It was the reminder that he won't be dancing for quite a while.

That means his time was rather larger on the clock; from seven to six in the evening, he was free to do whatever he wishes. He wasn't working his body overtime anymore so he was packed with energy but had no reason to use it for. At least that's what he thought initially.

"What did the doctor say?" Liam asks. Niall was with them too on their walk down Broadway but he kept his mouth shut. Occasionally, Niall and Liam have been spending lots of their time together. Why does he know this? Well, for someone who's got a lot of free time now, usually gets invited to a lot of places. And with an injury the haunts him, he tends to say no to lunch with Niall and Liam or drinks with Niall or Liam.

"He said I'm fine. I just have to let it rest for a while and ice it." He shoves his hand into his pocket.

"Did he say how long it'd take for it to get better?" Liam presses more questions.

"Yeah, it's like a month or something." Zayn shrugs.

"Cool. 'Cause I'm actually starting to miss ballet."

* * *

Denise, Greg, and Theo Horan live two floors just below his parents' apartment. He's not sure when it came to be that he's friends with a 2-year old who likes him more than his real friend Eggsy.

He's not there to babysit because Denise is there too, only to be making dinner that she seems like a slave to. Red pepper would make it better, Zayn kept the thought to himself. Zayn turns back from the kitchen and finds Theo running away from him. More like waddling than running.

"Hey, come back!" Zayn stands up and jogs behind Theo who leaves the living room for the foyer.

"Ketchup." Theo blurts out. Or at least, that's what Zayn knows he's trying to say. Kethchuph, catch up—it's the same thing to the little boy.

Zayn carries Theo by his armpit. It should be comfortable but Theo seems to be having the time of his life.

"You're flying!" Zayn laughs, swaying Theo back and forth.

All of the sudden his face crinkles and Zayn is running to sit back down on the couch. Not much of heights person, is he. Theo sits beside Zayn with a sulking face.

"Look we landed." Zayn gasps.

"Is he alright?" Denise asks, coming into the living room.

Zayn pouts his lips out. "I don't think he likes heights."

"Oh baby." Denise coos and picks up Theo. He still has his pouty lips out, but he quickly hides his face into his mom's shoulders. "Your uncle is coming today. Isn't it exciting?"

No answer.

But since their uncle was coming, Zayn decided to cut his visit short because he was supposed to be going to a bar with Eggsy. Secretively, Zayn's only there to babysit him and get him home safely. That might end up in two ways where they easily get mugged or fall off a bridge.

Down the elevator he goes, six floors down. No wonder why Theo is scared of heights. He is too. He's got the massive window in his room looking out towards the street and all he could see are the buildings across the street and the traffic below.

The light hits G and Zayn already takes a step forward to the door where it slides open and all his fears are just slowly building up again.

"Zayn?" Niall asks horrified. Luggage and boxes, the sweater, and duffle bag—he's the uncle.

Zayn played it off with a tight grin and squeezed between the small space of the door and Niall. He walked out of that building fast, almost like he's running towards the bar now.

* * *

"We go here way too often." Zayn laughs at Eggsy drinking down a shot. He didn't even have to make a face anymore. He's gotten so used to drinking his stress away from the restaurant.

"Not at all." Eggsy shakes his head.

"They know us by our first name." Zayn scoffs in awe.

"It'd be quite terrible if they know us by our last name. Then it'll really be like family."

Zayn laughs but it stops all too soon when he recollects the time back at the diner where Egssy used to be head over heels for his now ex-girlfriend.

"You seem shaken up." Eggsy says quietly, sliding him a shot. This might be the first time he's ever been nice.

"I just realized how small the world is." Zayn holds the shot with two of his fingers and goes straight for it.

"Trust me. It is." Eggsy huffs. "When you see both your ex-girlfriends at the restaurant with dates hotter than you... Holy fuck." He laughs after.

"You're hot too." Zayn nods with a flippant shrug.

"You don't count saying that." Eggsy waves him away. "You saying that is like me mum telling me I look handsome."

"So I'm your mom now?"

"Fuck off." Eggsy rolls his eyes while Zayn laughs. "Who did you see today?"

"Yesterday, it was my best friend. Then it was his best friend today." Zayn shrugs.

"You're just too friendly, Zayn."

"No, you fucking idiot. It's not like that." Zayn sips from his beer. "I haven't seen them in over two years and we live in the same city. I don't know about the other one."

"Crazy cut off." Eggsy laughs. "What the hell happened?"

"I used to live on the Lower West Side of Manhattan, then I moved back to my parents without telling anybody."

"Remind me not to fuck with you." He exhales. "That's quite mean to do to your best friend."

"I know." Zayn shrugs. "But I hate the other guy. We hung out twice and suddenly he was telling me what the hell to do. Then takes my best friend."

"This sounds like high school problems."

"It was like a few years ago..." Zayn steals Eggsy's shot from his hand. "I was 21 then."

"You're being haunted by your best friend's past." Eggsy whispers.

"It's not Christmas yet."

"There's like a fucking month until Christmas, and there's already snow on the floor so clearly, it is you twat."

"Are you going home for Christmas?” Zayn licks his lips as he thinks about the festive alcohol the bars will soon introduce.

"I don't know. My step-mom hates me."

"What'd you do?"

"I didn't become the doctor she wants?" He laughs. Eggsy's shared with him so many times about how unimpressed his step-mother is with him about the direction he's gone and followed.

"You only took boxing so you could fight with others." Zayn shrugs a shoulder. "Maybe she has a point."

"No she doesn't. Don't support her." Eggsy grimaces. "I like boxing. I like fighting against stupid people, so what?"

"Shouldn't you have like a passion for it? Fight for self-defense?"

"No one has a passion for these sort of things." Eggsy sighs. "It's all fake. People just say it's for passion so they could be a quote in a book about inspiration."

"But you have a passion for fighting people because you're an angry fuck?"

"Yeah. But you can't quote that." Eggsy swallows the flavour of alcohol down. "Parents will hate you."

"But in your so-called biography, you'd have to talk about why you wanted to fight in the big leagues."

"I can bullshit too. I could say that Muhammed Ali inspired me."

"Did he?"

"No. But people like to hear those sort of things. It's a superficial world we live in."

"You are superficial." Zayn laughs.

"Shut it. I'm older than you."

"By a week? Go fuck yourself." Eggsy was born a year before him, yet so late in the year. It's ridiculously stupid.

"Don't need to." Eggsy sighs. "The world has a lot to offer."

"You got turned down like half an hour ago."

"Can you please shut the fuck up?" Eggsy hisses and shoves Zayn, nearly knocking him out of his seat. "We had a very heartfelt conversation, yeah. Don't ruin it because you're a dick."

"I'm not a dick. You're the dick." Zayn argues back as he slides out of his chair.

A taxi drops him off in front of his building. In less then two minutes he's in the elevator with his eyes slowly blinking at the light above his head.

He can feel the unwanted presence beside him staring at his profile. Even his heavy staring isn't enough for Zayn to give any attention to.

"Hey, can you talk to me?" Niall snaps. He's more than angry—he sounds pissed. "Clearly you haven't changed since I last saw you."

"How observant of you." Zayn mumbles to himself. Why is he even out so late?

"I just want to know how you've been." He says aggressively. "Can't a fucking neighbour ask?"

"Niall. Fuck off." Zayn grumbles.

"I can't fuck off while we're in an elevator. What bar did you go to?" Niall ignores him. "I figured you went to one 'cause you smell like a bastard."

"The one with drinks." Zayn blinks slowly.

"Oh! You're bright! That's not my question." Niall snaps. "Which one?"

Getting straight to the point without any distractions, "What are you doing here?" Zayn asks.

Niall shrugs while he watches the elevator go up to 4. "Living with my brother."

"You're related to Greg..." Zayn realizes for the second time in the night. Seems like alcohol suppressed certain memories. Greg, Denise, Theo... They all have the same last names!

He nods, taking a step towards the door when he hears it ding. "Yeah, I'm his brother. And you're apparently my shitty neighbour. Bye."

Zayn didn't watch him walk out the elevator, nor did he reply to him.

An absent mind called for bad news. Distracted by the thought of his old friend finally knowing where he is, Zayn booked himself more time in the kitchen where he was prone to more trouble than before.

2 years apart obviously did anyone better. It seemed like Liam reinvented himself with better clothes. He's even worked on slicking his hair back which looked better on him than the 2013 Justin Bieber cut. He has no other way to describe it. The important thing is that he's happy. That's always something good to find in a person.

* * *

Another nightmare or a memory that Zayn is stuck to relive?

"I have practice." Zayn waved at Liam while his other arm held his gym bag. He couldn't go have the surprise breakfast Liam planned no matter how tempting it is to get a _waffle à la mode._

"You're back in the studio?" Liam exclaims with a smile.

"Yeah." Zayn laughs quietly, showing his proud smile. "After four months, right." A long time he spent watching from the sidelines, just being the support they need as their broken backbone of the company.

"That's so exciting." Liam took a step close for a hug.

It was. If his teeth wasn't always biting down every time he walks. Once Liam left mentioning something about inviting Niall out for breakfast that he blocked out from his ears, he took the subway to the upper west side of Manhattan where he met his mom holding tea and a breakfast sandwich for him. It only took three stops and plenty of stairs to climb up to the street level to walk the two blocks towards the hospital.

He never really told anybody about his upcoming operation. His family knew but none of his friends did. It was a matter that didn't revolve around anybody. The lesser, the better. A 2 hour operation at his ankle sounded a lot better without the scientific terms.

But the real matter he couldn't tell them was that he can't dance anymore. Injury won over his dreams and success 9 months ago.

* * *

Out of all the matches, this one was the one to make or break Eggsy.

It was the end of the game with Eggsy crowned as the winner, victorious yet again. Zayn was there; he knows how loud everyone cheered, how berserk the crowd went when Austin Tierra fell to the crowd. He likes how the crowd screamed Eggsy's name—it reminded him of all the people watching him up on stage.

It was unsure Eggsy was gonna win when he was paired up against one of the toughest fighters in boxing but he pulled it together the fourth round—pulled it together for his coach and Zayn as well, who was watching his game for the first time. He's spent so much days helping Eggsy on his spare tome get back up on his feet from his losses, he finally comes with Eggsy to one game. He's proud of him, cheering the loudest in the crowd when the call K.O. came on.

He could hear Eggsy's coach screaming at him from the sidelines—ravaged yelling, spit shooting out from his mouth, raging eyes—the usual scare for anyone.

_Stay on my time!_

_Can you fucking count?_

_Your footwork is shit!_

Zayn shook his head, looking back at Eggsy basking in the glory of his win.

The two confided themselves to the locker rooms—Zayn unusually quiet and Eggsy was aware of it. Words without cussing rarely exchanged between them and they felt satisfied about it, except this one time when Eggsy found himself looking at the reflection of Zayn from his mirror hanging from his locker that this wasn't the kind of thing him and Eggsy share.

"Dude, what's wrong?" Eggsy began to wipe himself with a wet towel.

"I didn't tell you," Zayn's lips twisted as his thought processed. "I used to do ballet."

"Ballet?" Eggsy exclaimed with a screech in his voice. "What the fuck? So you're like flexible and shit? Explains your toned figure."

"Yeah." Zayn shrugs, thinking it isn't a big deal. "I began when I was 6."

"So you went as long as 15 years?" Eggsy let his eyebrows furrow in. "That's dedication. Holy... So why'd you stop?"

"My ankle got fucked up." Zayn laughs. "Like, I had surgery, and then I never went back."

"You let a little fuckin' broken ankle win?"

"Things got complicated." Zayn nods. That's exactly how it went.

"I don't believe it. How good were you?"

"Heard of the New York Ballet Company?"

“What. The. Fuck." Eggsy drawls.

"I miss it sometimes." Zayn shrugs. "But I doubt I'd ever get my form back or anything."

"Fulla shit." Eggsy derided and threw his towel in his locker. "Full. Of. Shit."

* * *

Zayn woke up to his mom by his bed, stroking through his hair. He blinked a few times, then smiled at his mom.

"Hi." Zayn grumbled.

"This is weird but you have a friend over." She smiles brightly. "Says you're going to show him around New York."

"Is it Eggsy?" Zayn grimaced. He tried to turn away, but he felt a hand on his shoulder that sopped him. "Tell him it's too early for jokes."

"It's Niall Horan?" She sounds dubious. "He's related to Theo Horan. The little boy from the 6th floor."

"Um, he's not my friend." Zayn blurts out distastefully. "And he knows New York. Liam showed him around.” Many years ago.

Then there was that bright look in her eyes Zayn looked from. "How is Liam? I haven't seen him in so long."

"Very good. Stopped by the restaurant."

"Still dating Sophia?"

"Yup." Zayn says under his breath.

"Well, get dressed. Niall's waiting."

"We're not friends, for the last time." For the second time, Zayn shifted im his spot—doing a complete turn away from his mom.

"I didn't raise you to be rude." His mom tugged his hair from the end. "Now, show him around."

"I'm 24... I'm a legal adult."

"You're still under my roof."

"Are you joking?" Zayn glared at the wall of his room.

"It's 1PM, Zayn." She decides not to fight anymore. "Wake up. Get out of that shell."

Fine.

His mom went ahead to tell Niall that Zayn would be out in a while. A shower from last night's bar scheme with Eggsy, he couldn't bring that dreadful shit with him. But what does Niall exactly want from him? That no good fuck is getting him in trouble by his mom like they're a bunch of kids when they're full grown adults. If he wanted to see the city again, he should've asked Liam. Google is also free to use.

Zayn doesn't exactly have a reasonable vendetta to hold against Niall. Though the one little comment has stuck with him since the diner incident. He was in one way, right about not seeing him ever again.

Nobody could understand what it means to be a part of a ballet company. It wasn't easy for anybody who had a spot. It wasn't daisies when dancers got past the door to the studio of the New York Ballet Company. It wasn't easy, and it sure wasn't the nicest part of his life. His feet would bleed, and they new scabs would start to bleed again until new ones opened for him. Blood, sweat, and tears—a literal 8 hour description of a dancer's life. Anyone else could only imagine a whole day.

It wasn't until they were in the elevator they finally acknowledged one another; Niall gave him a sleazy smile while Zayn glared at him.

"How's life in the upper east of Manhattan?" Niall asked, blinking and exaggerating the flicker of his eyelashes.

"You tell me." Zayn looked off to the screen above the door saying 3. "Seems like you'll be living here now anyway."

Niall looked at his reflection from the elevator walls. "So, where are we going?"

"I'm going to eat lunch, and you can get the hell away from me."

"What did I ever do to you, Malik?" He turned back to Zayn.

"You ask too many questions." Zayn rubs his face from the sleep he still feels in his eyes. "And you're just a complete ass about everything."

"You don't even answer them." Niall retorts. "And I'm an ass? You're the one with a stick up yours."

"I answer what I should." Zayn sighs when Niall doesn't look at him. The door opens and Zayn's left catching up behind Niall who seems irate. "Fine. We can go through the park and grab food there. Then you can do whatever you like and I could go to the movies with my friend."

"What movie?" Niall asks quickly.

"Ouija 2. But I don't—"

"I wanna come." Niall says quickly.

"No way." Zayn laughs shakily. "We're not friends."

"Yes we are. Piece of shit. For the sake of me coming back to New York after a year. We absolutely are." Niall scoffs, extending his neck up. "Ever since Liam introduced us to each other."

"If I pay you, would you leave?" Zayn takes out his wallet.

"You're broke, Zee. You can't even pay me $5 to leave."

He snaps his wallet closed. "Only my friends call me Zee."

"Then don't you see where this is going?" Niall drawls with a smile.

Persistence... Zayn really can't fight that when he's not in the mood to talk to him in the first place.

Street food is one way to go about things in New York. $3 is enough to get anyone a satisfying hot dog and drink. It's not a 5-star meal but at least you get your money's worth. Although, Zayn's not a big fan of hot dogs so he fought through the urge of ditching Niall in the park so he could actually grab something real to eat.

It wasn't much of a fight really; Niall spoke non-stop and Zayn just listened like he should even if the words to shut up were on the tip of his tongue. Zayn really hates Niall as a whole. It's not the conversation or the way he breathes that makes him tune out from time to time. The memory of Niall stealing Liam away always makes him so irate. Not to mention that he has no filter when it comes to their conversations.

"No offence." Zayn blurts amidst Niall's fondness of the park even if he's seen it twenty times already. "But why don't you hang out with Theo? You know, your nephew...? Or Liam?"

"Oh." There's a drop in his tone.

Zayn let his eyebrow furrow in, putting his hands in the pocket of his jacket. "Never mind. You probably hate babies or something."

"N-no, I like them." Niall says softly, gesturing with his sprite can. "Love babies, alright. Don't assume stuff like that. As if you think you know better than I do, hypocrite. You don't know me."

"Did I strike a nerve?" Zayn quirks his eyebrows as he cruelly laughs at Niall.

"What kind of big brother wants their little brother living with his family?" Niall scoffs and sneers at Zayn. "Think why don't you? It isn't that serious."

"Hell, surprised he let you stay." Zayn scoffs. "An hour out and I'm already sick of you."

"I reckon his wife told him to lighten up."

"Denise?"

"Yeah. You know'em better than I do."

"I play with Theo. Like, if Denise is busy." Zayn shrugs.

Niall looks away towards the lake where small toy boats are afloat. "So do you still dance?"

"Off topic, Niall." Zayn rolls his eyes away.

"I'm allowed to go off topic." Niall scoffs. "That's how you start conversations."

Doesn't mean he's encouraged to. Whatever his motives are, Zayn isn't reading them. "I have a call." Zayn ignores him, and picks up Eggsy's call.

After that, Niall never approached the topic of Zayn's career ever again. Even with that, Niall kept quiet. They ended up walking in silence, looking for the exit closest to the way of the theatre. Eggsy didn't want to circle around the block for them and be stuck in traffic—the usual worry from anybody living in New York.

Eggsy was leaned against the wall with a cigarette at hand while the other hand held his phone. Zayn's hand hits his arm for his attention—his smile flashed before he saw Niall standing beside Zayn.

"Um, this is my leprechaun." Zayn tilted his head at Niall. "Showing him around Manhattan."

"Fuck you." Niall gives Zayn a hard shove that knocked him back. "It's Niall."

"Sup Niall." Eggsy raised his hand from his pocket as a wave. "I'm Gary. You could call me Eggsy, I'm cool with it."

Zayn snorts at the introduction, making Greg scoff at him and Niall smile as he watched Zayn walk by him to go in the theatre.

"Fuck off, dick." Eggsy quips from behind.

"Are you good with Ouija 2, Niall?" Zayn asks by the self-print ticket booth. "No? I don't care."

“I don’’t even know what it’s about.”

“It’s a horror film."

"I fucking hate horror films." Niall sighs—both annoyed and disgusted.

"Last call to bail then." Zayn hovers his finger over purchase where he's got 3 plugged in. Not that Zayn wants him to actually come. "Not that you're really wanted here in the first place."

"I'm fine." Niall quickly saves himself.

"Better not hear you cry then." Zayn makes a face at him—one that involves annoying Niall a lot.

"I'm not gonna cry. It's just a film."

Fine is truly the definition of I'm not okay at all. Zayn didn't fight him on it because it would be like a self-torture to Niall and a great thing to Zayn than it being a sad opportunity of the two of them hanging out together.

Zayn was pushed back in his seat, constantly shaking his head at the movie. How do people find themselves in this kind of situation? Maybe it's their curiosity peaking out all the time. Zayn's glad he's not curious.

Niall has his head turned towards him so Zayn could see Niall not enjoying the movie at all. No matter what moment it'd be on the screen, whether there's an actual pop or a genuine conversation, he's got his eyes averted.

Niall kept quiet once they got out the theatre. Eggsy and Zayn were both busy laughing their heads off with the way it ended. Not until Eggsy needed a smoke break, Zayn went to Niall with a hesitant decision to.

"What do you wanna do now?" Zayn asks, shoving his hands into his jacket.

"I was thinking... Chelsea market." Niall looks at Zayn for his approval.

Except, he raises his eyebrows at him. "Really?" He's surprised, is all.

"I wanna make dinner for my family." He shrugs.

"That's adorable." Eggsy joins them. "Zayn could actually help you with that. He's prep at the restaurant we work at."

"Oh." Niall smiles. "Could you?"

If he stared back at Eggsy, it would obviously mean he wasn't down for the idea to help Niall out. He wasn't. If he wanted to cook today, he would've went to work. Though knowing the dinner is to try and only make things closer between them, why not?

Niall's eyes gleamed when they went through the market. New York wouldn't be anything without its culture of food. Statue of Liberty serves as New York's iconic patriotic symbol, but food has always touched everybody's heart.

It was the row of restaurants, markets, and vendors that made Zayn think this is the one time he could run things again. For fun. Nothing severe.

"I was thinking pasta—"

"No." Zayn cut Niall off.

"Chef Zayn coming through." Eggsy laughs maniacally.

"Come on, Zee." Niall starts to whine. "I can't actually cook anything. I just want your insight."

"My name is Zayn. Stop calling me Zee." Zayn glares at Niall.

"What you'll actually get is Zayn being dramatic."

"You wanted a tour of New York. We'll do it my way." Zayn shrugs. "Unless you wanna go home, then by all means goodbye."

There is no way planned out for Zayn. But if there's anything Zayn's learned doing nothing about his life, it's enjoying the moments of nothing.

Through the market with room in their stomachs to take enough samples, they tried to hit everything. From seafood imported from west coast to the cured meats of Italy, Niall had a taste of it all. And ideas are suddenly starting to spring up. Nothing of pasta ever since Zayn shut him down.

"I'm thinking sandwiches." Niall nods to himself as he enjoys the one he got from the vendor.

"I've got a good one." Zayn grins.

"You're only a prep, Zayn." Eggsy laughs coldly.

"And you're a big-mouthed waiter who can't keep quiet." Zayn quipped back.

"You got me there." Eggsy shook his finger at Zayn.

Since Eggsy lived down south of where Zayn and Niall's building is, with no qualifying kitchen skills, he bid them goodbye by the curb when he dropped them off. Grocery bags were being carried by each of their arms—a struggle to be doing while they go up to the eight floor.

So Niall isn't all that bad, Zayn thought. Maybe between the three years, he's changed and he isn't as pesky as he used to be. He listened carefully at instructions, went head on with this dinner that should make anybody happy. It's a sandwich, but it'll satisfy anybody that they'll fall asleep.

The only reason the apartment is empty was because Denise went to visit her sister in New Jersey. Obviously, she took Theo and Greg. However, Niall's not sure if he should've gone with them. Something tells him he should but he can't now. There's even a chance they're having dinner there.

Zayn pulled through with Philly cheese steaks. It's a little bit out of the New York border but he's always loved the sandwich that it wouldn't hurt to do his own version of it and use sun-dried peppers and sautéing them.

Once everything was finished, Zayn said goodbye with the words, "Try not to burn everything next time?"

* * *

Life didn't exactly feel normal now that Liam knew where he worked and Niall lives in the same building as him. It doesn't mean it changed drastically; he still wants the normal routine of waking up for work and sleeping from work, with the side of Eggsy.

Though he's beginning to hate Eggsy and his conniving faces whenever he ends up inside the kitchen. He doesn't know what to think of them. Not knowing anything irritates him.

It's been a month since Liam came in. Zayn figured he should've gave up on reuniting when Zayn ditched him to go back to work. But it was closing time, Zayn was leaving, and Liam was there.

"Hey." Liam said quietly, weakly lifting up his hand from his pocket.

"Hi." Zayn let his right eye wince in confusion. "W-what are you doing here?"

"Was wondering if you're hungry. We could get some pizza or something." Liam shrugs.

"I don't mind." Zayn nods weakly. He was hungry and he felt awful seeing Liam out in the summer rain. Turning him down would mean he did all of this for nothing when he could've been out with his girlfriend.

It's quiet throughout the whole ride and even the sit-down at the pizza shop. They sat facing towards the window, watching the snow fall slowly onto the thin white carpet on the road. Zayn with two cheese slices, Liam at beside him with two veggie slice.

"Liam," Zayn swallowed hesitantly. He stayed looking out at the snow falling, but he knew Liam heard him when he grunted a response. "If you're looking for an apology—"

"It's okay." Liam shook his head with a smile Zayn couldn't dare himself to turn to. "I wanna get caught up on all the things I missed."

Zayn looked down from the street light, swallowing yet another lump in his throat. "Haven't missed much."

"I heard you hung out with Niall so that's something." Liam laughs. "Since you hated him."

"He wanted me to show him New York." Zayn shrugs his right shoulder with a grin. "There wasn't much of a fight when my mom was right there encouraging me to."

"How'd that go?"

"Unexpectedly well." Zayn smiles weakly. "We sort of talk now. But I think he might just be trying to get to know Eggsy so he could steal him. He's tried to make so many plans with him involved."

"Who's Eggy?"

" _Eggsy_. He hates when people call him that. He's a friend from work." Zayn hopes that was vague enough. "Niall stole you, and I'm not down for another friend to disappear to this too-friendly fuck."

"He didn't steal me from you." Liam says confused.

"Oh? So when you made plans without me...?"

"You were just really busy with practice, okay?" Liam sighs. So much for apologies and heartfelt conversations. "You were always at the studio and you had like one day free, and most of the time you spent it either resting or at your parents' place."

"I'm sorry I didn’t put much of an effort." Zayn scoffs; finding himself glaring at Liam.

“What a half-assed apology."

“It’s figurative. I’m not actually apologizing."

“I know you wouldn’t. You’re too good to be weak."

“Too good?” Zayn's voice suddenly raised. He could feel his cheeks heating up. He hated the way Liam stared at him with so much anger. He couldn’t tell him the truth.

“Are you too good to be too good to be weak?" Liam huffs with contempt. "You're such a lovebird."

"Excuse me?" Zayn grimaced.

"It's a bird who lives in a cage." Liam explains. "They're usually a pair of them because they're lovebirds. But, you're the only one in the cage. You don't have time for anyone. You're always brooding and sulking."

"Well, you're a dick." Zayn scoffs as he slides out of his seat. "It's a genital. Probably three or six inches. Used to piss with or jack off."

Out the door, Zayn's looking left and right for a cab. New York should be full of them. Somehow, the street is only filled with drunks and parked cars.

“Why’d you come back?” Zayn laughs and his face falls deadpan once he looks at Liam. Zayn lost everything to that surgery, and he can’t even find a place in his heart to tell Liam. How could he even go back to a studio?

“I was always here. You left.” Liam reminds him.

“Well, did you learn anything new from me?” Zayn huffs. “Anything that answers your questions and doubts?"

Liam stays quiet. Exactly what Zayn expected for somebody who had no idea what's been happening in his life for the last three years.

He walked home; didn't mind the ten blocks he had to beat through as the snow went down.

To think he didn't expect for any of that stuff to happen—that's his fault completely. Everyone's been provoked for the last two years; Zayn can't help but bear that in him.

* * *

Bar night after three days and he's still not okay. Zayn has gone through about three shots and two beers. Eggsy was oblivious to Zayn's plan to sulk at the bar like a true New Yorker. He said some things he kept to himself in over two years. He's allowed to wallow at a bar alone with raucous company surrounding him.

It makes him envious that the large company at the booth was having the time of their lives. There was a birthday—21st birthday meant you went all out. It reminded Zayn that in about a few months, he'd be 25. It would've been his up and coming 6 years at the company if he stayed. But it's not so often people last in a company without a life-changing injury.

He's brave to walk another ten blocks back. He's been doing a lot of walking these days. If he was in his right state of mind, he'd be cheering himself on. But he didn't even care that he was catching his breath after four.

His heart stopped all of the sudden when someone shoved him, only to learn that Niall's got a death-wish on him. He's got a gym bag by his side, his cheeks are red and it wasn't because of the cold.

"Let's walk together." Niall said quite confident. How odd. No one's ever that confident. But Zayn agreed without a word and walked by Niall where he'd feel his gym bag hitting him against his leg.

Zayn was expecting the "it's fucking cold in summer" small talk but he was full of liquor that warmed him up and Niall had his jacket unzipped to a loose tank-top, so that meant it wasn't cold at all.

"Did you go to that bar again?" Niall asks. "You smell."

"Yeah." Zayn answers blandly. "You should go some time."

Zayn didn't catch what he said until Niall started to laugh and he let it pass him. "Sure. I like drinking."

"I'm not sure if I should agree with that." Zayn looks off leeringly.

"I don't drink a lot because I dance." Niall shrugs. "It's kind of bad for you, isn't it, Mr. Expert?"

"I don't dance anymore." Zayn laughs.

"Do you miss it?" Niall asks, looking at him with those bright, blue eyes that always seem to be happy.

"Yeah, a bit." Zayn answers quietly. He was anticipating for another argument—not a question that he felt the need to answer truthfully. "A lot, actually. I don't know."

"It's because of your ankle, right?" Niall asks another question. Zayn wouldn't answer if he didn't feel like talking. Though talking might be the best thing for him to do right now. It wasn't like Liam when he was pushing his buttons. Niall just wants to know.

"No." Zayn eventually says under his breath. "It's kind of screwed up though."

"You're not screwed up." Says Niall, making Zayn laugh. He didn't mean himself—he meant the ankle. Although, it makes him feel better to hear that. No one has said anything that nice in a while.

"Thanks." He smiles at Niall. Before he could forget, "how'd the dinner go?"

"They came home late." Niall shrugs. "So I ate all of them."

All of the sudden Zayn starts to cackle. "Next time then?"

"I might just take them out for dinner." Niall exhales with a grin. "Know any restaurants?"

"What do they like?" Zayn could say his restaurant name right now if he didn't feel so weird seeing people he knew there. And he works in the kitchen.

"Mediterranean." Niall says unsure, letting his tone peak up at the end.

"Me too." His interests suddenly came up. He'd quit his job at the restaurant for one at a Mediterranean kitchen if he has a guaranteed job there. "Anatolia is a great place. It's Turkish. It's not actually Mediterranean but there're similarities."

"Cool. We'll go there sometime then, you and I."

"What?" Zayn laughs out of nowhere. "No way. No dates."

"I'm not going to a restaurant with me family, not knowing anything. You'll have to teach me what to order." Niall bites his smile down. "Maybe before practice? Wanna come on Friday?" Zayn looks blankly at him. "I have a studio from 4-10. It's pretty late but it's fun. It's on 280 Broadway."

"I don't dance anymore. What do you think you're doing?" Zayn laughs drily and it makes him stop walking. It sounded more hostile than Zayn could hear because Niall's carefully looking at him with questions stirring in his head. Zayn figured Niall had things to say. Why doesn't he go on and say it? Spare Zayn's feelings, Niall talks to him like he doesn't have any. He's drunk and he talks too much anyway; he'll listen for tonight and forget all about it tomorrow morning.

Niall stops afterwards, looking at Zayn over his shoulder before he can fully turn to him. "I'm just inviting you out." Niall doesn't see a problem with it. "At least come once and see if it feels good to you."

"You know I don't dance anymore." Zayn reminds him with so much annoyance in his tone. "You're always asking and pressing me about dance like I'm fucking done with it."

"It was an invitation that you're more than welcome to decline." Niall couldn't believe what was happening. "There's obviously something fucked about you that you apparently can't have a decent conversation about it."

"That concerns you because?" Zayn grimaces. "How many times do I have to tell you, you don't know me?"

"Every time I try to get to know you, you turn into a dick." Niall's voice is raising at him. "Obviously I don't. You won't let anybody know anything about you." The way his words grazed, Zayn wanted to jump right in and say what? That he didn't have. He was just getting hotter and hotter by the minute listening to Niall. Who is he anyway to talk about character?

"Jeez, I fucking thought you were getting better. Liam said so many good things about you and I can't see any of them. It's ridiculous how many people say so many good things about you, and I don't see shit at all. Maybe it's just me." Niall rubs his face in searing anger. He couldn't even look at Zayn—he was seeing red. "Hell, you don't even know me either. And that's completely unfair."

"Why are you getting so mad?" Zayn laughs. It wasn't actually funny. Even Liam's voicemail when he went ghost weren't this livid. "It's just ballet. It's not like I'm in any use for you in the studio.

"I just don't like wasting my time on people that don't deserve it."

"Excuse me?" Zayn was slowly starting to see red as well.

Before he could think of something to say, Niall was already turning away. "Walk home by yourself."

* * *

Zayn never planned out the amount of times he'd see Niall. If he did, Zayn would have liked to keep it to the bare minimum that is zero. Though, hard to avoid neighbours that leave the building so much, doing who knows what the fuck at 4 in the afternoon until midnight.

He's been in an elevator with him at least twice. The music from is earphones were blasting that Zayn winced a few times just imagining how loud his music really is. The man knows how to hold a vendetta really well, and it didn't bother Zayn at all.

His life was back to the way it was—work, Eggsy, bar nights, home. Having Niall somewhere in there was too much with the way he pestered about his past that he was trying to walk away from. Ballet is still there; he could see it everyday from the conditions of his feet and the ever soreness of his body. That's something he could never forget. There were many things that he wants to forget, yet there were many things he wants to remember more clearly like ballet with Haider. Those memories weren't painful. Not at least until the end.

Niall was bothering him more than he should and they don't even talk to each other anymore.

He heard his name before he could look And he wished he looked up before he could react.

"Zay!" The innocent and pure voice startled him when the elevator door opened at the sixth floor. He was looking at his text messages before the little boy who seems to adore him for some special reason Zayn can't see.

His lips parted and there was that quiet breath that slipped out fom in between as he stared Niall's stern face. There was something painfully expressing about it. They stared at each other, the emptier Niall began to look as his nephew continued to reach for Zayn.

"Niall." Zayn quietly blurts out.

"Whatever." Niall rolls his eyes.

"Zay!" Theo continued to babble. "Play!"

"Wow." Niall exhales shaking his head. "Even my nephew likes you. Really wanna know what everyone sees in you because I'm clearly blind."

So is Zayn. He winces to himself while the elevator hum and Theo were the only things making noise. It was a tense ten second ride down that you couldn't cut with your sharpest knife. When it hit the lobby, Zayn really had to do it.

"My favourite colour is green." He says out loud, braking Niall from walking out.

"What?" Niall asks in deep confusion.

"I—" Zayn swallows. His throat is clenching real tight. Niall couldn't leave yet so Zayn kept his finger on the keep open button. "I enjoy sunsets and old cartoons. If I had to live with one kind of food for the rest of my life, it would be sushi. I despise hot weather and reality t.v. shows. I'm a capricorn and I found out that I'm INFP from that Kinsley personality quiz. I would like to try cheese fondue one day and visit Borneo."

"What—is this fun facts with Zayn Malik?" Niall looked unimpressed but sincerely not insulted and mildly amused.

"I—uh, no." Zayn scratches his head. "I'm apologizing."

"I didn't hear the words I'm sorry and you expect me to forgive you?"

"No." Actually, yeah.

"You're right." Niall laughs shaking his head. At least he made the effort to make things easier between them. Zayn shrugged, and went on his way to work. He probably missed his train. The chef will rip him a new one, no surprise.

* * *

If Zayn is going to be honest to himself, Niall's offer was really too good to turn down. He never thought Niall would take this hobby of his far where he's renting a studio out. Even if it's just one day per week from 4 to 10, it's enough to get some practice in.

Friday. That's what Niall had mentioned. 280 Broadway. If Zayn showed up, it isn't unexpected when Niall invited him in the first place. He can change his no to a yes, right? Doesn't matter anyway—he's going.

He arrived closer to the evening, staying by the window of the door. Just by the look of it, the studio is massive. Zayn loves the feeling of the hardwood floor below his foot and the empty space around him he could suddenly occupy. It's all so nostalgic; not a memory he falls back into.

Shifting his head, he could see Niall pacing around with his water bottle in his hand. The music was soft but Zayn could clearly hear the slow sultry of the hypnotic electronic rhythm through the door. The mid-thigh shorts and loose tank-top on him were things that grabbed Zayn's attention at first; they revealed his toned arms and legs that Niall often had cladded with t-shirts and trousers that let his ankles peak out. It doesn't take much to know Niall's been putting effort and time into practice; his body glistened against the studio lights, making the ripple and soft dip of his muscles stand out.

There's a lot of things going through him, making him wonder if going back to a place like this is a good idea. His mind says no, though his body is shaking seeing how close he is to the floor. He can see himself from the mirror already; his body feeling edgy, his fist opening and closing, and then there's his feet—rolling back and forth against the heel and toe.

Before he could notice, he can hear the thuds on the floor and feel the jumps and know that it's Niall. His eyes followed the silk movements from Niall. His eyebrows set down in confusion, but he felt that sense of awe everywhere on him. If anyone's graceful and dances as if there's no bones, it's Niall.

There's a sweet slow-burning ambiance in the room from the music that compliments this all so well; one that which makes it even more jaw-dropping that Niall's able to move like the flow of the wind. He draws his leg up high, letting his fingertips be an inch off the floor before he could continue what seems to be so easy. He makes it look so effortless—like a feather swaying left and right from the air. That couldn't possibly be what Zayn did all three years ago with a contract and more.

Zayn could see the straining of his muscles, from the calf to his arm at it stretches far. He's the one with a lean figure—a beautiful one at that he has seemed to ignore all this time.

He rocked on his heel and toe on one foot, and let his other foot take a step forward, ever so lightly that Zayn was in a trance. All of the sudden his turns were sharp, letting one foot out and one foot off the ground after another turn before he could finish with a spin.

This is the first time they've ever really looked at each other straight in the eyes. Niall's eyes were dark—nothing Zayn's ever seen before. Though staring into them, he could see himself in them and remember all the emotion he's always had in his moves. Zayn quirked a brow up when he realize how heavy his chest was feeling. He seemed more tired than Niall who's slowly relaxing from his pose.

And there he is, charging towards him like a bull.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Niall pulled the door so fast. Zayn quickly spaced out of la la land.

"Watching an idiot." Zayn stands up straight, crossing his arms and pushing towards Niall so he could walk in. "Kinesiology? Really. Could've fooled me."

"What are you talking about?" Niall shuts the door behind Zayn.

"If you can dance, fucking do it then." Zayn listens to the echo of his voice in the studio.

"That's funny. The last time I checked you were in the New York Company—"

"I got fired."

"What happened?" Niall didn't sound so concerned as he did being bemused, but wasn't trying to show it at all. He looked like he was trying to care and he wasn't up for caring about someone he constantly argues with.

Was Zayn ready to tell him? He laughed to himself because this might actually be a mistake.

"You were one of the best dancers I've seen." Niall mutters to him with a straight face. "Nobody could silence the audience and have them stirring in a matter of seconds like you did."

"Is that what everyone said?" Zayn never bothered with the reviews.

"It's what I saw." Niall tells him, slowly blinking. If Zayn had to guess, he's drained. "You wouldn't know your affect on people if you opened your eyes."

Zayn shook his head, not because he didn't disagree. He just couldn't see it for himself. Is it the pretty face or the moves that he executed far better than most of the male dancers in the company? Truth be told, Niall's been right all along. What did anybody see in him? Really, just because he danced well never meant that what anybody saw from him is actually what he wanted to show. To him, it was just a dance. He never read into it so deeply like everybody. But if there was something to see, then maybe he'll look this one time.

Zayn made his way to the door when he realized that there's still a chance that Niall's still holding everything against him. Once again, Zayn doesn't blame him.

And them there was that voice, this time—for the first time—it warmed him up from the inside. "See you next week." Niall showed him a faint smile that he returned before he left.

* * *

Dance was an option that had gone out the door. Didn't mean he couldn't watch Niall when he went to visit him at the studio. It didn't necessarily make things better for them—Zayn still had a vendetta against Niall and Niall tried every means not to call Zayn out on everything he had to say. Silence is required from the both of them.

Zayn was down on the floor by the outlet, plugged in was his laptop where he watched his movies on. There's a lot to kill between 4-10. And he wanted nothing to do with dance. It still amazes him why he goes and never interacts with Niall as much as he would if Eggsy was here. Guess he just needed something to do on a Friday evening. Hanging out somewhere else didn't come up at all.

Even though the movie was on right at his face, he always had to look up at Niall and watch him. No more than ten seconds before he ducks his head back down to watch his movie. He was at a better spot now to look at Niall than he was yesterday. It's clear that he had never had a teacher—there won't ever be a day where they're always pointing out the flaws of any footwork.

"Bouncy." Zayn mumbles. Niall immediately looks his face with a scowl.

"Shush." He hisses. He's on his toes again.

And the form is still not right. "Fix that." Zayn tells him quietly again.

"Fix what?" Niall scoffs. "You don't dance anymore. If I wanted feedback, I'd ask."

"Whether you want it or not, you're going to hear it." That's how it was. Zayn had to learn how to take criticism well at a young age. "I'm telling you—fix your _pliés_."

"What's that?" Niall looks down at his feet.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Zayn scoffs.

"You know I didn't go to school for this." Niall huffs, scowling at Zayn. He didn't want Zayn to get up—let alone talk to him in the first place.

"Do you know third position?"

"Sure. That's as basic as I get in my vocabulary." Niall shrugs. At the same time, he puts his foot in front of the other, having the heel of the front foot near the arch. Then he starts to chuckle. "Is that how I can get you on the floor, by fucking up my positions?"

Zayn crosses his arms. "Why do you want to dance in the first place if you're not going to take it seriously?"

"I can't just like something?" Niall loses his third position; he's casually standing, stretching his arms above his head.

"For someone who doesn't know anything, you dance as if you're a professional."

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment. I can hear it somewhere there." Wincing, Niall turns his head so Zayn can see his ear.

"Ballet is dedication. I've had 15 years of dedication to it. Now I'm a prep cook at some restaurant. If I had kept going, I'd probably have gone all over the world three times."

"Haven't reached Borneo, have you?" There's that timid grin again from Niall.

"No." Zayn sighs. "So tell me. Why do you dance?"

Niall scratches his head, biting the corner of his bottom lip. "I have ADHD. I figured, I can put all of my excess energy into this."

"Yeah?" Zayn breathes out. "You never thought about showing people what you can do? Because as soon as I came home from my first class, I ran to my dad just to show him what I can do with my feet."

"Your dad is different from mine." Niall shrugs again.

"What does that mean?" Zayn asks quietly.

"Never mind, okay." Niall suddenly grabs Zayn's wrist. "Just show me what I'm supposed to fix."

* * *

The following Saturday morning, there was a knock on the door. His parents weren't there to answer.

"Hm." Zayn could barely open his eyes. His hair is poking everywhere, there's creases in his skin from pressing his arm against the blanket. He's pretty aware that he's even got drool from the corner of his mouth, and how he's standing in front of Niall in his boxers. If he didn't know any better, Niall was staring every part of him down.

"Hey, so—" Before Zayn could even welcome them inside for tea or juice—Niall's pushing in past Zayn, holding Theo in his arm. It was awkward from the quick glimpse; he was sure Niall had only one arm around him. He couldn't even do that properly. He walked past them towards his room, unable to hear Theo calling out for him. "Where are you going?"

"What?" Zayn grumbles, shaking his head to wake himself up. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

"I was gonna tell you before you started walking away." Niall settles Theo right beside him on the couch. "My nephew misses you."

"And?"

"I-I have a brunch date." Niall blinks at Zayn. It was right there, up in his face, below his waist.

"Eyes up here, babe." Zayn suddenly smirks, prompting Niall to roll his eyes. "Where's your brother and sister?"

"Out. See, that's the—"

"Oh no. No way!" Zayn laughs. It wasn't really funny but he's slapping his thighs.

"Come on!" Niall shot up from the couch. "Theo's really up for a Saturday morning with you."

"Theo!" Zayn called from behind the couch. He ducked his head beside him, stroking his hair. He grins close to him, smelling the soft baby perfume. "Up for sleepy time?"

"Play." He grabs Zayn's cheeks, weakly pinching him. "Ba..."

"Well, I'm up for sleepy time." He looks up at Niall afterwards who groans in his seat.

"Please." Niall continues to groan, resting on his back over the arm rest.

"Niall, this is your nephew." Zayn laughs as he shakes his head. He picks Theo up from his armpits and embraces him up with his hand supporting his head.

"He likes you better than me. Every time he sees me, he's always talking about you." Niall scoffs. "How do I compete with that?"

"I don't know what you've got against Theo or your family—"

"There's nothing—" Niall exhales.

"I'll just tell you right now, this is not fair for Theo—his uncle, to put him off for a date when his brother trusted him to take care of their son." Zayn let his eyebrows knit together. "There's no competition. Just play with your nephew, for christ sakes."

"God," Niall sighs. He stands up to dig into his pockets for his keys. He drops it on the table for Zayn, knowing how all the things to take care of Theo were all upstairs in his brother Greg's apartment. Glad Niall knew Zayn didn't have any baby formula or food for Theo in his cabinets. "I'll be home in three hours. I—I'm sorry, okay?"

He knew Niall didn't want to drop Theo off under these circumstances. Zayn didn't really scream babysitter to their family, and neither did Zayn do this so-called gig for money. He wasn't getting paid in the first place—it was just nice to be around a kid. Their innocence and wholesome love towards anyone who shows them affection and attention has a lot of influence.

"Are you scared of him?" Zayn stares at Niall carefully. He was fidgeting a lot with his fingers, biting his lip, trying to laugh this off as a joke they can come back to in the next few years.

"No." Niall's voice shakes. He takes a deep breath, runs his hands through his hair before he sits back down. "I don't wanna—" another deep breath. "This is my brother's kid. I don't wanna screw anything up with him."

"What's to screw up?"

"He's going to cry all the time, and I can't deal with that. I'll probably forget to feed him or do the things Denise wants me to do." He rubs his face after with his hand. The stress is clearly getting to Niall; Zayn didn't want it getting any more severe than it is. The feeling was more than familiar. Just like the many people who endure through it, dealing with it is difficult to do on your own.

Zayn narrows his eyes at Niall, twisting his lips. "Be honest, do you have a date today?"

"No." Niall answers quickly. "I lied about that."

"Obviously." Zayn snickers. At least Niall's breathing now. He was barely taking the time to control his breathing to calm himself down. "Okay. Give me ten minutes to get dressed and ready. Think you can keep Theo occupied?"

"No." Niall mutters, lacking the confidence as he watches Zayn's arms coming over beside him; Theo lying down on his belly, nibbling on his own lip. "Freakin' marshmallow."

It only takes Zayn a surprising seven minutes to get his face washed, teeth brushed, and dressed in his favourite t-shirt. It has orange sleeves and neck lining with a palm tree on his chest, saying 'do nothing club'. Turning his face left and right, he didn't need to shave so that saves him lots of time. The last time he did was only a few days ago. It's only stubble along his chin and jaw. His recent hair cut also saves him time from maintaining it. It was a clean fade from the side, the barber kept everything else untouched. It was still long enough at the top that his hair swayed thick over his forehead. That's if the products are spread through and high. In no time, it'll all grow back quick.

Saturday morning with Niall and baby Theo in the Horan's apartment—it seems eventful. Does he have energy for this kind of heavy duty morning? One that involves a very playful baby who loves to pinch and grab and Niall who he's still unclear about? No, not really and it was easy to hate him. After all, he took Liam, dropped Liam—or so he thinks; it doesn't seem like they hang out anymore. Then he comes around, acting like a know-it-all about his life. He still is a know-it-all, just less of a dick now.

Theo is big enough that Zayn can hold his hand and walk. Maybe more accurately waddle beside him. He has to bend down just a bit to comfortably hold Theo's hand. His other hand is in his mouth.

"You know, it's my birthday today." Niall starts to wind up Theo's toy car. 

"Happy birthday then." Zayn greets him half-heartily. He let's go of Theo's hand and the boy sinks right down on the floor with his toys. The least he can do is sit with Niall, seeing how nobody isn't here to celebrate with him. "What are you gonna do?"

"Probably drop by the candy store." Niall shrugs. "Or go to central park."

"It's your birthday. You should do something exciting." Zayn lifts a brow. "If you want, we can hit up bakeries and buy every tooth-rotting dessert this afternoon."

"Really?" Excitement twinkles in Niall's eyes. "You would go with me...?"

"It's your birthday." Zayn puffs. Even if Niall's not his favourite person, it doesn't mean he's going to leave him to spend his birthday alone with a baby he feels uncomfortable with.

Niall follows certain intervals to breathe, seeing how babysitting really pushes him off the edge. It seems like now having Zayn in the apartment, he's comfortable for anything and more relaxed than before. He's even jumping in to feed Theo a sippy cup of milk from the fridge.

"That's way too cold for him." Zayn takes the cab that Theo is handing him, and hands him a red toy car that he gladly takes and walks off to wheel around in the living room.

"Are you serious?" Niall looks at the green sippy cup in his hand.

"Microwave it for 30 seconds. We'll put it here and he'll pick it up if he's thirsty."

"Oh baby baby." Niall croons melancholically.

There was a lot Niall didn't know when it came to taking care of a kid. It was never ideal for him to learn. It didn't provide him a reason to learn. That's obviously wrong. Here he is, waiting for milk to warm up because it's too cold for his nephew who preferred the yellow cab over any of the toy cars that he had scattered all around him on his 2D city and road play mat.

Three hours in—already Niall was getting antsy and restless. Greg and Denise were already supposed to be back by now. It's not like Theo wanted to play with him. If Zayn was there, there was nobody else in his focus. Though Denise or Greg could rip it right away from him. Niall didn't count. Only if he tried.

"Yeyyow." Theo's conversations are usually between himself unless he's right there in front of you.

"Yellow." Niall repeats quietly, fondling with the wheels on one of Theo's cars.

"Yeyyow." Theo replied, rolling his car along the couch. Niall was lying across, grimacing at Theo running his car over his leg.

"Yel-low. Like, la la." Niall enunciates. Zayn chuckles to himself, piecing big legos together that Theo has been ignoring.

"Ya yaaa." Theo grumbles.

"Oh my goodness." Niall exhales. "Dumb baby."

"Niyuh, Niyuh." Theo grabbed his wrist. "Yeyyow."

"What does he want?" Niall's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"He's just talking to you." Zayn leans his shoulder against the couch. "He's a baby. Nothing they say ever makes sense."

"Are you good at everything?" Niall scoffs. "First ballet, now child care? You're like some superhero."

"That's probably the third nicest thing you've said to me."

"Are you really counting?"

"I don't get many from you."

"You don't give me the opportunity. You're always so up the wall about everything."

"Maybe if you stopped assuming—"

"Hey Niall. We're back!"

"Babby!" Theo called out, sucking on his fist as he walked towards the door.

That was Zayn's cue to leave. It was a quick high and bye, 'have you had lunch?' It was a no but he left anyway. Niall always has to say something to break whatever is good between them. Whether or not it's true, Zayn could go a without it. There isn't a day that he isn't thinking about what he could've done different not to be where he is. Not a single day.

"Zayn, wait—"

"You don't get to come after me and do whatever it is that you came to do. That's fucked up." Zayn huffs. "I don't give a shit if it's an apology or to call me out on whatever I've fucked up with. I don't wanna hear it."

"I am sorry." Niall stresses.

"Are you?" Zayn raises his voice. At least they were in the elevator going down to the ground floor. "Are you actually sorry?"

"Yes! I am!" Niall shouts back.

"I've tried to get to know you. I've tried to help you out in every way." Zayn huffs. "What else do you want?"

"Just be there for me."

"How? How are we even friends?"

"I don't know!" Niall shrugs aggressively. "But you need to lighten up on me! You're holding something against me from 3 years ago and I have no idea what it is!"

"Oh!" Zayn shrugs with glee.

"Well, you need to stop." Niall pokes at Zayn's chest. "Because you still have to help me with my ballet."

"No I don't." Zayn huffs.

"Yes you do. You want to help me anyway. Remember? 'Bouncy, wrong, _plié_!" Niall's voice shot up two pitches high. That's far from how Zayn realistically sounds like.

"I don't sound like that." Zayn grumbles.

"Whatever." Niall hums as he weakly elbows Zayn. "Thanks a lot with Theo. You're buying me all the Portuguese tarts I want for my birthday, and then there's next Friday as well."

"What's happening next Friday?" Zayn's face turns sour. He's not buying Niall Portuguese tarts next week Friday either.

"You're gonna come to the studio and help me with my techniques!"

No he won't.

* * *

Actually he was. Friday evening he was there. He still hasn't bought himself shoes or physically prepared himself to get on the floor and show Niall the proper techniques. He really isn't doing much by screaming out wrong! every time Niall made a mistake. Although he was up for correcting mistakes and teaching him what's actually correct, dressing up for the occasion would bring him one step closer towards dancing and he's not sure whether he wants to come back at all.

Zayn doesn't have to completely finish ballet once and for all. Wiping it all entirely away would mean wiping a tremendous part of his life away. He won't make excuses—he really did like helping Niall out. They plan more days than one to come to the studio. Even if Zayn's working, Niall could just go there by himself and practice by himself. Zayn makes it at least twice in one week. He doesn’t do anything most of the time that he's there but watch.

Niall lacks a lot of things, but grace and elegance isn't one of them. He's never had a teacher to guide him to do the moves in the right way. Zayn isn't even qualified as a teacher but he's the extra hand Niall needs to help him out.

During practice, it all ends up backwards. The first time Zayn tries to make a move, Niall’s interrupting him. This doesn't count for Zayn to be taken as dancing.

"Zee, you're not loosening up." Niall falls short on his position when he looks at Zayn from the mirror.

"Sorry. It's been three years." Zayn shakes his arm and weakly bounces to loosen up his knees.

"It's okay." Niall laughs when he comes into Zayn's space. "Just keep your posture tight, between your bellybutton and back." And there's a timid hand on the small of his back.

It should be easy to do. He used to do it all the time.

"And then..." Niall's hand goes to his hip and the other one joins in too, fingers pressing down on his bone. "Straighten up." He pulls his hip back up a tad, to align with his back properly.

"Try not to stiffen up, yeah?" Niall pats his fingers down Zayn's hip before letting them slip away.

It ends up being normal between them.

Eggsy's here for some practice. He felt left out that everyone just somehow knows ballet. Not like he can take pointers from Zayn or Niall and do them without complaining or back-talking.

The next practice they get somewhere farther than postures and how to do certain moves all over again. Watching Niall from the mirror, trying to mimic his movements with precise timing, Zayn learns a few things that might help them both.

And in the end, Zayn never did think of anything growing between them until Niall handed him a present that third week of December. Secret Santa, he said. It made Zayn's face grimace as he held the present in his hand. It's wrapped neatly in a light blue coloured paper with snowflakes and snowmen patterns—it screams the holidays. It also screams that Zayn didn't get anything for Niall.

"It can't be secret santa if it's just between you and me." Zayn explains, still examining the box in his hand. "And I didn't even know we were supposed to get each other something. Sorry." He holds it back for Niall to take where it makes him laugh at Zayn.

"I want you to have it." Niall fixes his scarf just before he lets it hang from his neck. "It's a freakin' present, Zayn. I would rather not get it back. I'll see you after Christmas."

He left the room quick and Zayn didn't even realize he finished dressing up that quick to go home. The present really throws him off and he wants to open it if he didn't need to leave really soon.

"Hey." Zayn catches up to Niall eventually, spending a good amount of his stamina running after him with gum in his hand.

Niall doesn't say anything. He only smiles and takes up Zayn's offer on the gum. Then they go on to have a really quiet conversation about the holidays. Zayn learns neither of them like egg nog. When he gets home, he puts the gifted snow globe of the skating polar bear on his dresser.

* * *

They cut one of their practices short because of a New Year's eve party at Eggsy's place that he likes to combine as his birthday party as well. They always happen at his place. His boxing money can afford a two-floor loft with an amazing view of Times Square. It's fucking unbelievable. It makes Zayn hate his parents' place back at Upper East even if they've got their own floor. Eggsy does too.

It's one of the rare moments that they've excuse themselves from practice mode to drinking mode. Zayn's given up on bar nights. He has a lot of making up to do.

"It's loud out." Niall observes from Eggsy's bedroom window. Nobody knows how Eggsy sleeps with the windows as his walls exposing ten stories high.

Zayn isn’t exposed to pop culture as well as he thinks he is when he has no name for the busiest event happening in Times Square on the biggest night. It involves the infamous crystal ball and he still doesn’t have a name ready to roll out of his tongue.

"The best seat is here." Zayn picks up the beer from the window ledge and sips.

"I wish we had food right now." Niall pouts his lips out, looking into the small hole of the beer can. "I'd kill for like tacos or chicken wings right now."

"We'll make some tomorrow. Not sure if Eggsy has anything in the fridge but, it's probably doable." Zayn laughs quietly.

"Hey!" Eggsy barges in. "Niall, come out and meet my friend." He gestures with a beer in his hand.

"Sure." Niall rolls off from the edge, pulling his jeans up before he could walk through the door and into the loud company Eggsy has somehow found. Most of them are people he met at boxing. Zayn doesn't know about the ones that have been following him throughout the night.

Eggsy joins beside Zayn, looking out towards the window where they could see the massive crowd getting all excited for Fifth Harmony to perform.

"You've got about ten minutes." Eggsy sighs.

"Until new year's, yeah." Zayn nods.

"You guys weren't alone here for nothing." Eggsy throws an arm over Zayn's shoulder. He groans immediately.

"I don't like the crowd and Niall doesn't know anybody except us." Zayn takes another swig from his bottle. "Don't know what you're getting at."

"Are you going to fucking kiss him or not?" Eggsy scoffs, leaning his head against Zayn.

"No. I'm not interested in him like that." It was never like that with him. Not for a second—or so he tells himself quite a lot.

He begins to whisper, "I just don't want to find you guys fucking on my bed." Before laughing in Zayn's ear.

"We're not—nothing's going to happen. Shit." Zayn grimaces as he tries to shove Eggsy's arm away. "This whole new year's kiss is overrated anyway."

"Five minutes, Zayn." Eggsy messes his hair.

He's off the bed in seconds, only to open the door to leave where Niall's standing outside waiting.

"I couldn't find your friend." Niall explains with a new beer in his hand. "But there's some guy saying you won't beat him at an arm wrestling contest at the kitchen."

"What?" Eggsy exclaims, pulling Niall back in. "Fuckin' Mikey, I swear—"

"Eggsy, shut up." Zayn scoffs when he turns back. "Close the door if you're leaving, shut up and close the door if you're staying."

"I'm given choices in my own home on my birthday. I'd kick you out if I didn't actually know you." Eggsy sneers before closing the door behind him.

Quiet is back, just like how Zayn likes it. Niall's back on the bed too, on his stomach with their shoulder slightly touching. Zayn tries not to immerse into the details of it; ignores how close he is compared to before he left and continued to watch the street party from the screen.

"You ever kiss anybody at these things?" Niall asks out of nowhere—to start things off.

"I'm not one for clichés." Zayn takes a long swig from his beer.

"That's pretty cliché of you to mention."

"Well, I don't wanna kiss anybody piss drunk and then they're not going to remember it." Zayn laughs. Exceptionally, he's 3 beers in—could still go a few rounds.

"I could be an amnesiac and suddenly remember my whole life if you kissed me." Niall ponders out loud.

"You want me to kiss you?" Zayn laughs quietly.

"No, gross. I hate you. Never ever." Niall grins just before he hides his smile by taking a swig of his beer.

Zayn turns his head to the side, feeling a jolt in his spine when he's inches away from Niall's face—close enough to see the black edges of his eyes before he sees the beautiful tones of blue and green. "Well then. Stop talking about it." He laughs; making a mistake of looking down Niall's lips for two seconds before he caught himself and looked away.

And maybe he shut his eyes for too long at some point because there's the countdown on the screen and Niall's quietly counting down under his breath. It felt weird knowing there's a chance Zayn's going to kiss somebody at the end after so long. All the new year's party he's been to, he's always left early to avoid getting paired up with somebody he's never met before.

"Happy new year's, Zayn." Niall says under his breath with quite the thrill in his voice.

"Happy new year's." Zayn grinned, did a quick cheers with Niall's bottle before he took a drink. He didn't bother to look at Niall, just watched the fireworks illuminate Times Square brighter.

* * *

Lucky for Zayn, the restaurant isn't all that busy between 2-5. He's also unlucky when Eggsy's able to walk back to the kitchen as much as he want.

"Punk." Eggsy whispers under his breath as he walked by Zayn in the kitchen.

"Can you stop?" Zayn scoffs, going back and forth between his chopping board and the plate.

"Sorry. My friend is just really in denial." Eggsy whispers.

"You can fuck off till the order is ready." Eggsy isn't really supposed to be at the back of the house but he manages to be just to cuss Zayn out all the time.

"Aye," Eggsy frowns playfully. "A bit sensitive you are."

"Just annoyed of you." Zayn smiles at him, sliding a plate over to the edge of the counter.

He's been on his tail for the last two weeks. Maybe Eggsy's got the right to for missing the opportunity to kiss Niall anyway. As if he can't do it again some other time. What if Niall doesn't even look at him the same way? It'd be really embarrassing to kiss someone who's not interested in any way at all. He's avoided that by keeping to himself—now it's hard when half his mind wants to do something with Niall.

He arrives late to the studio because of the traffic. There's some kind of snowstorm happening outside and Zayn just thought New York is going through another cold front. It's always dealing with something brutal that eventually it starts to feel normal.

It's the first time Zayn's ever done some kind of choreography. It's hard to write dance moves on paper and see how it'd look like if he hasn't seen it with his two eyes. During his break time, he'd continue adding moves for Niall to try out. It's been working out quite well. Give him anything, he'd do it all with such finesse Zayn never really saw in himself.

"Back _fondu_ , then turn your body as you bring your leg back down and initiate 4 immediate _tour_ to your left." Zayn looks up at Niall standing with his arms crossed. "Maybe a back _grand battement_ will be better than the _fondu_. The leg is higher and—"

"Can I get a demonstration?" Niall rubs his shoulder arm.

For about a while, his fear took over him, not being sure if he's the right person to ask. Ever since he started coming to the studio with Niall, he’s slowly, gradually taking bigger steps. Today, he's changed into loose clothes, not minding sweat drenching his back. He doesn't have shoes on however, but even then, Zayn doesn't require them. Niall doesn’t push him ahead of his pace. In his steady pace, he finds comfort in the studio again.

"Alright." Zayn closed his notebook. He's the one with the image in his mind.

 _Everyone Wants to Rule the World_ covered by _Lorde_ was Zayn's choice of song because it was slow enough to follow, yet fast in its own way when the song reaches that hair-raising, nerve shaking drop that brings a certain element in the choreography that's far from the feeling of comfort.

He counts himself in just before the song even begins. Half his mind is trying to remember the mechanics of the movements; how to hold your body up, which position your feet should be in. And the other half is trying to feel the movement of his limbs.

It was more than just knowing how your body moves, the music should be the one to inspire. And this song is despondently slow. Yet the intensity is often building up to the climax, only to drop eerily. There's a rush of adrenaline that makes anybody believe they're going to live forever. It's a subtle transformation that Zayn doesn't expect to personify until the end. Dancers get into this trance when they take on a character. That's not the difficult part. The difficult part is breaking out of it. 

 _Adagio,_ Zayn remembers. Slow movements executed with fluidity and grace. Positioned right on the ground, he takes the whole floor with his rolling and kicks, abrupt drops on his knees and back, not following the choreography he's written down on his notebook. It became contemporary—something Zayn was never really good at. Not until now. At the change of pace, that's when he falls even deeper into the choreography—past the scribbles he's got on paper.

Everything is suddenly brisk and hellacious. His twists, mobile turns all around the studio and kicks would escalate to jumps where he'd land on his hands and toes spread apart with his face and body an inch off the ground. His movements are precise and firm, following the constant beats of the song. He does a quick half turn and kick before falling onto the floor, rolling on against each shoulder with his hips in the air, and quickly drops flat on his back, only to kick his feet over his head, somersaulting to stand straight from a position he's never even done before, let alone do in the first place with the status of his insignificant upper body strength. He lunges forward with his arm stretching out before he can pull himself back with haste, jump in the air to land on his knees. One move after another, going back and forth across the floor like a pendulum, may it be in the air or on the floor, they were all different and fast.

His mind caught up with the remaining few seconds of the song; keeping his elbows locked out as he spins. _Pique_ after _pique_ , he was getting faster, adding in _grand_ _jetés._ There were more  _piques_ until his dozen _pirouettes_ came, only to end with him kicking and reaching his arms out around the floor. He pulled himself up, just to collapse back on the floor where he was looking up at his reflection on the ceiling. 

Why he really quit ballet, he doesn't know. Excitement never hit him that hard to the extent that he felt lighter than air. If there was a moment he ever thought he could do anything he wanted; it was two minutes he had the whole floor to himself, and the seconds he's catching his breath while he looks at himself at the mirror.

"That was ace." Niall says out of nowhere after the long silence. "That actually fucking scared me. Really, not after that." Niall shakes his head at Zayn.

"What?" Zayn finally lets out his breath, only to catch some more. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not coming back after that."

"Was it that bad?" Zayn frowns lightly as he sits up.

"No! That was terrific." Niall exhales. "Rusty but hell if I know in your full potential, I would literally burn watching you. Like, when Greek Gods reveal their true figure, whoever watches gets turned into dust? Like that."

"Sorry." Zayn exhales. "I just needed to get that out of me. It's been a fucking while."

"I love it." Niall laughs quietly. "Elegance isn't exactly your best friend but you're terrific with the sharp movements. Not like you're rigid though. Maybe like a cat of some sort. A jaguar."

"I like that." Zayn laughs, just as he sits down on the bench close to Niall. "And you're a flamingo."

"Maybe we should cut our practice short." Niall gives Zayn a weak smile. "I wanna go around Manhattan again."

"We smell disgusting." Zayn winces. He can smell himself through his shirt and it isn't pleasant.

"What, it's not like we're out there lifting our armpits for people to sniff." Niall shrugs. "I want hot chocolate."

"Somehow, I suspected you to be lactose intolerant."

"That's nice." Niall laughs. "Not sure if I'd agree with you there. I like grilled cheese and ice cream."

"There's a diner that sells all of that." Zayn shuts his notebook. "But their grilled cheese are to die for. It's like glue."

Niall was impressed that Zayn knew all the nice spots of New York are. There's a place for everything and he's glad to know that in the first place. About two stops through the subway, a three minutes walk through the cold, they push into a small and quiet diner where they sit inside the booth.

Zayn felt a tad self-conscious and tried to make a decision whether he should keep his jacket on or off. He has his clean long sleeve shirt under his sweater in his bag, but even then, he feels like the stench is rippling through his armpit.

"If this is what working hard looks like, I don't mind." Niall says quietly under his breath when the plate of grilled cheese came in between them. They have their hands on their hot chocolate so no one was going to be waiting anymore.

They pulled each slice apart and there was that holy moment of cheese the oozed out between them, stretched as far as their arms could go—only for Niall to break it with his fingers and take all of it and put it over his slice.

Zayn laughed knowing that he would've done that as well if he wasn't so enticed by the melting cheese.

"I'm not going to be able to eat like this all the time, am I?" Niall asks quietly, letting the crunch settle between his teeth after.

"The industry has a standard of the perfect dancer." Zayn explains. "It's good to eat as proper as you can."

"But when something wicked happens, we can spoil ourselves to this heavenly thing right here?" Niall holds his sandwich up at Zayn.

"Yeah." He shrugs. "Why not?"

"Because I thought you hated me. At first." Niall looks down at the table. "So I guess I'm eating this one to celebrate that you don't hate me anymore."

It hurt Zayn knowing Niall knew what he felt about him. It was a stressful time for him when his ankle started to hurt more and more. Though projection of his stress wasn't a plausible solution he's proud of presently. Neither is holding the vendetta that he has for slipping in between him and Liam.

After a short silence. It sprung something else that has been lingering in the air.

“What happened?” Niall holds his mug carefully. His hot chocolate is still warm, and Zayn looks down at his and it’s already cooled down.

Zayn doesn’t want to understand that question but he does. An answer is still lacking him. He wants to find the heart to tell Niall everything he’s never told anybody, secrets he harbours in himself. If it’s that obvious, then it should be easy to say, It’s not what it seems. It’s not what everybody thinks of it to be.

* * *

The next Friday came and they ate dinner first like they had planned before Zayn lashed out on Niall. They had their gym bags on the extra seat beside. It's been a long time since Zayn had taken his bag out. Its still got a good pair of shoes for him to use and bandaids in case of blisters. It all feels so overwhelming as they sat across with naan and hummus as their opening appetizer, that in less than an hour Zayn would be able to see himself on the mirror again—see his lean figure and his body do wonders again. Lean figure might be a joke. He's been eating lots of junk.

On the other hand, maybe he could live like Niall and forget about statistics and all that sort of boring things and just let go. If Niall can eat three Philly cheese steak sandwiches and still dance, Zayn can too with two years of junk food behind him.

They got to the studio after an hour at the restaurant. No one's exactly sure if they'd be able to dance with a full stomach. Zayn's planning to stick to the stretching and exercise—play it safe this first time.

"I don't know if I could do this." Zayn mutters. He's holding the barre with one hand, letting the grip get familiar at home again. Realistically, he has. But it's the demons he has inside of him that holds him back from going all out.

"Just think before you were really good at ballet," Niall bends his leg back, holding his foot by the ankle. "What was the one thing you always wanted to do first?"

"Everything." Zayn says quietly before he starts to laugh with Niall. "Yeah, everything was cool."

"We'll do everything then." Niall smiles.

Through an encouraging talk, Zayn eventually got his leg on the barre. The stretch is behind his knee; he could feel the sharp pull of his muscles that makes him want to stop. He somehow also misses the pain of stretching. He turns and does the same for his other leg, reaching out for his toes so he could feel the pain once more. If there isn't any pain, you're not working hard enough. He learned that at 7 years old.

"I lied." Niall blurts out.

"About what?" Relaxing, Zayn settled with his arms holding him up against the barre.

"I did competitions." Niall swallows.

"... And?" Zayn pried for more.

"Only a few. I've won some." Niall grins. "I got contracts, even for New York Company."

Niall must've seen Zayn's eyes bulge out. “Why didn’t you take it?" Zayn leans off the barre. "They only take like 3 dancers each audition."

"I really don't know..." Niall mutters. "The contract has been on hold for three months. They said they'd wait until I'm ready, and I could show them what I can do again. Depends if I've gotten shittier or not that they'll take me, but I can't."

“Why can’t you?" They never wait on anybody. They don't hire people back either.

"My parents wouldn't like it. We just, have a different view of what's right for me to pursue." Niall starts to lean back with his arms holding him up. "I wish I had cool parents like yours."

Zayn wished he could understand all those sort of problems with parents not supporting their kids but he can't. His parents always pushed him to go farther with ballet that he can't do it anymore. All they've ever really done was support him.

"Can I tell you something?" Zayn asks quietly.

"Yeah?" Niall looks at him.

“I got my ankle surgically fixed. After I got surgery for my ankle, you know the New York Ballet company fired me." Zayn grins tightly while Niall's eyes got bigger. "But that's why I moved back with my parents."

“Zayn," There's horror in his voice that almost makes Zayn smile. “You didn’t have to quit."

“I did. You wouldn’t understand." There was more to it, Zayn had it all tucked away in the darkest corners of his mind.

"You can't be done with ballet." Niall exclaims.

"And you can't let your parents run the choices you make." Zayn tosses a water bottle at him. "You're 24. You're on your own."

* * *

Reality hit him when he opened his eyes to the time of 9:20 on Tuesday morning, that he was finally 25. It was a scary feeling knowing he's spent 25 years alive and he's not doing anything productive in his life to consider successful. Tonight, he's working the closing shift—the last one out there with Eggsy. It's truly a wonderful 25th birthday.

His parents are often gone to work before he wakes up and his two sisters happen to be at school before 9, so to be greeted by the ones he loves would come later. But they left a card that made Zayn smile through his tired eyes, and appreciate the breakfast they left on the counter for him to enjoy.

He still felt normal; just with his eyes open more than before—that he's 24 and all he's ever really done is spend his waking hours in a studio, never really resting at all. He should have called a break for tonight when sadly no one's there to take his place as kitchen prep.

Everyone in the kitchen is oblivious to the day, allowing Zayn to be able to work without the constant fear in his mind that someone is about to throw a pie at him and yell happy birthday into his ear.

The restaurant emptied quick, leaving Eggsy and Zayn to run things clean and ready for tomorrow. Except it turned out to be the only chill time they ever had without the extremities of sports or watching a film. The music played from the restaurant speakers—all from Zayn's RnB playlist that made him so happy. They were mostly throwbacks and RnB classics that everyone always knew.

It had stopped when Zayn started to hear knocking of the backdoor which worried him a lot knowing no one would ever enter from there after hours.

"Niall, what are you doing here? Can't knock on the front door like a normal person?" Zayn exhales, not realizing how tight his fist is around the mop.

"Eggsy told me it was your birthday today." Niall holds out a gift bag. "Or yesterday, like an hour ago. Crazy right?" This really proves that Eggsy has a big mouth. "Anyway, i-it's a gift. I mean we have been friends for quite some time now. It only makes sense that I get you something." Niall looks at the hands tearing the bag open. No they weren't but Zayn could see how much this all meant to him.

Zayn laughs when he finds himself pulling out an envelope reading, For Everything. Zayn hopes it's not money—as much as he loves cash. Niall didn't need to pay him for the help. They weren't even considered lessons to Zayn.

His eyes widened at the tissue papers, eyebrows narrowing in as he looks at the small tank on the counter. This couldn't be a gift.

"Niall," Zayn stammers. "A goldfish?"

"Why not?" Niall asks quiet, bringing up a plastic bag of water. "She's right here."

"Oh god! No fish in the kitchen!" Zayn quickly grabs the bag, holding it with both hands—one at the knot and one at the base.

"It's a pretty fish!" Niall laughs. "They say it's a beta fish, but I wanna call it a pretty fish instead."

"She really is pretty." Zayn looks at the long tail of his pet fish. It's white with red spots like blood. He's never seen such a pattern and colour for a fish before. "Thanks." He laughs. "What do you wanna call her?"

"Oh, uh," Niall chuckles lightly. But Zayn has an idea already.

"I'm gonna call her Naia." Zayn grins up at Niall—hoping he caught the familiar sound of their names. "And I hope she lives past a year."

"What?" Niall exclaims. His eyes shot open. "Zee!"

"Bad joke!" Zayn bites his lip. "I love the present. Thank you."

"Welcome." Niall smiles. "I wanted you to be happy."

Zayn let the bag settle on the counter for something he never really found the moment to do. Carefully embracing his arms around Niall through his neck and over the midsection of his back, he feels his body melting into it—liking the warmth between their pressing chests.

"I am happy." Says Zayn in a low voice through Niall's ear.

He squeezed tighter when Niall did too—didn't want to let go yet, even if it means staying longer in the restaurant with Eggsy hounding him. He opened his eyes, and there he was—Eggsy—thrusting against a chair. Zayn's jaw dropped.

"Zayn?" Niall grumbles against his shoulder.

"Yeah?" he answers too quickly for his taste.

"You smell." He mumbled.

Oh god, Zayn told himself as he was pulling away. Except, Niall didn't let him. He laughed quietly in his ear, let the air ghost under his ear, feeling small hairs on his skin stand as tall as they could.

"It's okay." Niall smiles again. "I wasn't really expecting you to smell your best after working an eight hour shift. But you should really get some old spice soon."

As if that made anything easier. Now Zayn has to deal with it.

"Oh!" Eggsy starts to shout in the kitchen. Zayn started to pull away until "Group hug!" Shot out of Eggsy's mouth and pushed him back into it.

And there was some sort kick in his chest that made Zayn love Eggsy for pushing them together longer.

* * *

The one day of the weekend was when Zayn was actually able to sit down and talk with his family without having to know they leave early and he leaves before they come home from work.

"I feel like I don't see you around, and we live here." His mom held his face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm great." Zayn smiles just as he shakes his head and throws an arm around her shoulder.

"How's work?"

"Stressful. Too much yelling." That's all the head chef does, and Zayn understands completely as to why he yells at them all the time. However, he's straining his voice too much and he'll break his throat real soon.

"I sort of started dancing again." Says Zayn. "Don't know if it's a good thing."

"Really?" She exclaims with such a happy look on her face. It must be a good thing then. "That's great. You really missed it, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Somewhat. I'm not doing it full out. I'm helping my friend out. Uh, Niall?"

"But that tells you something, right?" She leans her head against his arm. "Maybe you'll be good as a teacher when you were a dancer."

"I guess. That way I'm dancing half the time but still doing something related to it." Zayn shrugs. "Maybe."

"Get some rest at least. You're always out and doing something." She has an arm around his stomach.

"I promise it's not anything tiring." He grins tightly—his cheeks becoming chubbier. "I'm really good."

Though he could agree he's gotten used to the lifestyle of not having to do any hardcore practice. Work at the restaurant is enough to tire him out these days, and he was doing more at the studio than in the kitchen.

Although today is break day and his bed is more comforting than anything else that entices him, hitting up the mall with his sister doesn't seem like a bad idea at all.

They make it home for dinner, long enough to stay and hang around to help his sister with her art homework. Colouring he can do; mathematics is another language.

He doesn't plan on drinking tonight, despite his entrance to the bar afterwards. Although with Eggsy already wasted with a bunch of girls and his boxing team, it might be impossible to come out without one sip of alcohol.

"Knockout!" Eggsy yells, then looks to Zayn. "Hey, I'm famous. I K.O'd Clark."

"Congratulations. Who's Clark?"

"The overpowered son of a bitch everyone referred to as Superman. And I am now, his Kryptonite." Eggsy holds his drink up.

"It was great!" His manager Jolie put her arm over Eggsy's shoulder. "Training sufficiently pulls off."

"Is that why I didn't see you this entire week?" Zayn tried to squish into the booth.

"Can't go wrong with more training. Have to step up some way." Eggsy takes a drink. "Aren't you and Niall doing any training?"

"Not since three days ago." Zayn pouts out his bottom lip. The last time Zayn checked, it wasn't training. It was helping out a friend.

"That's a long time."

"We've done enough. And he's good enough." Zayn hadn't noticed he took a short swig of beer from Eggsy's bottle.

"It would suck if he loses what he knows. He deserves to go places with the way he works hard." Eggsy leans back in his seat.

"Are you saying it's because of me?" Zayn could understand him if he's drunk. But then again, if he was dunk he'd be saying the truth that he's hiding. He preferred it better if it was kept from him.

"Because it's not like I go with him to the studio. We meet there. And I help." Zayn retorted then crossed his arms. "I'm not his teacher. I'm not even getting paid."

"I'm not saying that you're to blame. And it isn't bad if you call yourself his teacher." Eggsy exhales, sounding like he's just about to laugh. "What if you're a distraction to him? It's his time for the spotlight. You did say New York Company is holding his contract, and you did dance for them."

"What are you trying to say?" There's suddenly something that ticks Zayn livid. "That I'm jealous? I'm trying to sabotage him?"

"No, Zayn. That's not what I'm trying to say—"

"Okay, so why would you bring my past into this?" Zayn suddenly snaps even more. "When you didn't have to?"

Zayn was far from envious that someone else better had come along the way, that someone better will take his spot—the one spot that he never took for granted. It was love and hate between him and taking the lead. But he has never reached the point where he could be jealous. Maybe there was a time in his life that he could've been—that's all gone away like his motivation to dance.

He'd never want that for Niall. Not when he deserves every bit of recognition and applause for working this hobby off of his that was never meant to be a hobby at all.

It feels like a secret that nobody could ever know but them—share details that nobody is supposed to know because they'll be compromised if they do. It was fun while it lasted, since he's some kind of distraction now that he's ruined Niall's chances of ever getting in with the New York Company. He won't let it happen—not if he doesn't care about Niall's career as much as his own.

* * *

Easier said than done.

"Zayn, can't we watch a movie?" Niall exhales hunched over with his hands on his knees.

"Maybe another time." Zayn looks past Niall and aims for the mirror. "Um, once more, okay? Then we can go home."

Because Niall was supposed to be taking part in a solo jazz show, the first real thing since they started training together. The winner gets $2,000 and a trophy. Everyone likes money and materialistic objects that prove you're a winner. They've been working on a choreography to _Work Song_ by  _Hozier_. It was perfect for Niall. It was everything his interests in. As much as that fluctuates, he sticks with it.

"Can't we chill?" Niall wipes his face from the sweat beading down his temple.

"We chill all the time." Says Zayn with an awkward smile.

"But I like chilling with you." Niall crossed his arms and held the side of his shirt. "You always have a place in mind."

"Maybe Eggsy will be free." Zayn looks at the bandaids in the box.

"You're not free?" Curiosity filled his tone.

"Just a busy night." Zayn puts the box down over Niall's bag.

"Oh." Niall said under his breath. He straightened his posture before letting out, "Okay. You should go then. I'll practice myself."

Zayn slumped back against the wall, his heavy arm takes up his gym bag strap around his fist. Suddenly, he was watching Niall perform a piece—not practice. Without music, he still had his timing and flow. His emotion was present and it was captivating like light to a moth.

"I-I don't have to." Zayn blurts out just as Niall finished a _pirouette_ , but not losing his balance to his voice. He continued beautifully. Zayn doesn't know what he's talking about. "I wanna stay."

He shouldn't have listened to Eggsy; Niall's piece is perfect to put any audience in awe. There's something special in him he never had—the fire in his heart to want to work hard, to be better while having fun always in his mind. It used to be fun, and then it started to feel like nothing else mattered but dance—closing him off to the excitement that was supposed to be constant because of his old supportive friend.

To support a new one makes it all the better, especially seeing Niall silk across the floor—make what they've been doing seem like honey and milk and not spikes of pain poking at them in every way.

It struck confusion to Niall why they're going home so early, why Zayn feels the need to be in such a rush to get home. He wasn't ready to go home, even if he was performing his routine for hours straight.

Yet, as the elevator shot past their floors, there was more confusion when it didn't stop on neither of their floors and they were walking out of the tenth floor where neither of them live. Niall looked at him alarmed, knowing nothing would be funny if they pissed the notorious old lady off that lived here. Suddenly, Niall's feeling of confusion was replaced to little fluttering his stomach as it wasn't just some sketchy floor, and Zayn wasn't just leading them out to the fire escape.

As they climbed up the ladder of the fire escape, it was the first time Niall saw the building's rooftop patio—decorated with a lot of spots for a group to go to. At first, Zayn had no clue if he was ever allowed to go. It was an easter egg to him—knowing that no one ever seems to remember this place like he does to go up here enough even in winter. Plants bloom here in spring, and colour the roof green it will. Though they've still got the benches out. Good enough for either to sit in it. At least there's no snow.

"Maybe my favourite spot of all time." Niall gazed the lights of the buildings so adoringly that it cracked a smile in him to show.

"It makes up for the lack of stars in the sky." Zayn looked right up, proving him to be right when it was all dark with a few airplanes flying by.

"Ireland is filled with them. It was beautiful." Niall gushes quietly with his elbow on his knees and hands holding his chin, knees bouncing to the cold. "But they don't have the amazing food like we do here."

"Are you ever going to tell your parents you've decided to go with dance?" Zayn was sitting back and glancing at Niall from time to time.

Maybe he caught on, turning his head to Zayn before he could sit back. He had a grimace on his face, a weak one that made Zayn wonder if he triggered something. So he looked down at the bulk of his jacket which were his hands in his pocket—not feigning to Niall's fingers combing through his hair, pushing the small curled strands away from his face.

"Eventually." Niall stood up from the bench, and walked up towards the edge. You could never say goodnight to New York; it's the city that never sleeps, never stops, and definitely never holds out on you. Standing beside him was Zayn, watching the city as well. There was a cold breeze that irritates him, seeing how little clothing he's wearing. East coast winter is rather dangerous. "If I'm certain I'll get somewhere with it." Niall continued under his breath as he fingers pressed through the small hairs hanging over his nape. "They really hate ballet, so—" He shrugs.

"Yeah. You'll make it." Zayn blinked slowly, with a faint smile that Niall smiles back too, elbows touching as the two have their hands dug inside the pockets of their jackets for warmth.

So Zayn did want something to happen between the fives inches their faces was apart. It scratched against his stomach when he didn't do anything, waited, not too long before Niall eventually turned away and watched the city before him.

"It's easy." Niall blurts out. He quickly turns to Zayn, expression of annoyance on his face. It surprises him, but only because of how determined he sounds. "You just—" his hand holds the curve of his jaw. "Build the moment you would always wanna replay in your head, look into their stupid eyes," Zayn's eyes are stupid. He could agree with that. He stared into those blue eyes like Niall stared intently into his before looking down. "Every sort of detail, like when you lean your stupid face in, tilt your fucking head,"

"Left?"

"Yes, left. Everything that's spurring inside..." He breaks from the anger to laugh quietly. "And then you sort of just—" He paused to think before his voice fell even quieter. "You let whatever happens next with the guy you've liked since three years ago. And more than on a few occasions wanted to strangle."

You let whatever happens next to the guy you've liked since three years ago? It was different for him, especially when he left two months after knowing him. Without hesitance, taking everything Niall's said, Zayn is the one who leans in, lips pressed together with his eyes shut. He let Niall's tongue press against his, pressing both their mouths harder—minds becoming frantic to the excitement of a kiss he waited far too long to do since New Year's. Both their tongues touched as Zayn kissed Niall's top lip, and it wakened his senses.

Things changed when Niall slowed down, started doing short, sweet and tempting kisses between Zayn's lips. He let the noises of their lips fill in the silence, hearing it every two seconds Niall pulls back. He'd flick his tongue over Zayn just to press tight and sweet between his lips. It's driving him up like a drug, especially when Niall's thumb swipes across his bottom lip, softly pulling his thumb over it. He parts his mouth more, feeling Niall's tongue touch his so quickly. With their mouths pushed together, their tongues finally met—staying attached until Niall's pulling apart, both their lips brushing on top of one another as he catches his breath.

"Why didn't you kiss me on New Year's?" Niall asks with such disappointment that made his eyebrows furrow in.

"It was easier said than done. And you said no." Or this is where Zayn easily talks himself out of actually explaining why he never tried. "Why did it take you three years to make a move?"

"Because you were an arsehole, and I couldn't trust you because you were so—" Niall grazes his last word that it doesn't even sound like anything anymore.

"Why are you angry?" Zayn laughs.

"Because I like you." Niall exhales. He couldn't take Zayn smiling at him, feeding off this moment to rub into his face. "Fuck off. You're the one who tried to fight me when we went out with Liam."

"You were the one trying to steal him."

"I was trying to get to you." Niall retorts back with Zayn's shirt in his fist. Then he realized, and smoothened his hand over Zayn's collarbone instead. He began to sheepishly laugh just as Zayn pulled them closer together with his arm hugging Niall's waist. "Like, at least after Liam introduced us."

They stared at each other before Zayn could catch on with "Ah..." As Niall joined in after.

"You're so stupid." Niall laughs. Not long before they start to kiss again, letting it last long and sweet.

* * *

After what Eggsy said, maybe he was a distraction after all.

Zayn found himself with his legs wrapped around Niall more than Niall was wrapped around practicing. It was some sort of practice on its own.

"Your feet can't move when you catch me." Zayn laughs, putting his hand in Niall's hair.

"It's not that easy." Niall tightens his arms around Zayn's waist more. "Your impact is very hard on me."

"Okay." Zayn steps down to the floor, taking slow steps back from Niall. "Do the routine one more time and we'll go home after."

"Do you know anything about taking care of a fish?" Niall turns towards the mirror, legs standing shoulder width apart.

"It's a fish. What's so hard about it?" Zayn shrugs. Then he starts to count, "3, 2, 1—"

"I hope Naia is doing okay," Niall starts again. "Not choking in her own poop water."

"I just changed her water yesterday." This time, Zayn raises his arm to count, starting with the index finger. "3, 2—"

Niall turns back to Zayn with his eyebrows set low as he walks back towards the bench. "Wanna go out?"

"Niall,." Zayn huffs with a faint smirk on his face. Niall needs to practice or Zayn is going to start sound like a nagger who's got no priorities. That's not it at all. "If it isn't obvious. Now, can you please start practice?"

"I've done it like twenty times." Niall groans with his face covered by his hand before his arms fall by his side.

"Fine." Zayn accepts quietly.

"It isn't bad to take breaks at all." Niall smiles at Zayn, holding Zayn's face to squish. He lets the pressure off from his palm, moving his hand to his waist instead. "We haven't actually had one this whole entire week. Remember when your ankle started—"

"Don't bring that up." Zayn sighs. "I know what happened. But it's not about perfecting the routine, Niall. It's about being the best, see how far you'd go to such an extent to be the best."

"I've reached my limit this week." Niall frowns, using mostly his eyebrows that puts Zayn into deep guilt.

"God, I'm sorry." Zayn holds Niall's face by his jaw, leaning right in for his lips that press back between his.

Slow and sweet how their kisses always are—and Zayn gets into the motion of it all too much; anyone would be able to tell by how loud they're kising and how tight he sucks on his lips. Niall held him tight around his waist with his arms, trying to pace his tongue properly with Zayn's.

His teeth drag under Zayn's bottom lip, gently biting between just before he can slip his tongue in with Zayn—letting a quiet moan slip from the corner of his mouth.

"You're so fucking hot." Niall exhales sharply over Zayn's mouth as his fingers press the edges of his shoulder blades.

"Thanks." Zayn laughs quietly, pressing his lips over Niall's top lip. He takes the chance to lightly push him away from him, shaking his head at Niall glaring at him. "Just, please—one more time? That's all I'm asking. Dinner's on me."

"Fine, I'll do it for the sake of practicing." Niall shrugs. "Maybe dinner. Need to get better anyway." It didn't suffice Niall as it intended to. He's been practicing for hours straight, Zayn knows that because he's there watching and coaching—telling him that his turns weren't quick, watching him do it right the next time just to see something new wrong happen.

Zayn's trying to help Niall be the best that he can. Truth be told, it's not going to be found in the six hours they've been practicing in. Niall needs the drive that's going to push him for more than three hours because it's not going to cut it. Niall's not here to perfect the routine—Zayn should have been awake to that idea since they started. All his eyes have seen were opportunities to get closer to Niall, find something new to enjoy in his life for once—just to learn that he's holding Niall back from his potential.

Maybe the eight hours of long training was because his teacher has yelled at him enough to know he could be better than eight hours. The words frequently echo in his mind, and they weren't nice words at all. Perfection is something nobody could ever reach without blood. His feet bled at the jumps, his toes have been broken, his whole body's been through enough to know perfection was never cut out for him.

They got home just before 11pm struck at the clock. All were asleep but Zayn and Niall who had no energy to do anything, not even talk or blink. But Zayn promised dinner, and they haven't actually eaten dinner at all.

He sat down with Niall on the couch. The blond was extremely exhausted that Zayn questions how he's standing up in the first place.

"It won't hurt as much if you take a cold bath." Zayn puts down a glass of water on the coffee table, and an aspirin for the body pain. As much he's glad Niall went the extra length to do the routine one more time, seeing him hunched over with his hands hiding his face isn't a sign of victory.

"What time should we meet tomorrow?" Niall groans quietly.

Zayn puts a hand on Niall's back, rubbing his midsection as he stares tensely. "I don't think we should."

"Don't undermine me, Zayn." Niall huffs. "I'm gonna go, and if you don't wanna be there, that's fine."

"Hey." Zayn exhales with his eyebrows narrowed in. "I wanna be there. But it's not right if—"

"It's fine if you don't." Niall puts the painkiller in his mouth and takes a long drink of water.

"Since you're so obliged for me not to go, I won't then." Zayn says quietly. "Just don't over exert."

"I'm not obliging anything." Niall shrugs. "You don't wanna be there, I'm not forcing you."

"Look at yourself. You're hurting all over and you still wanna go." Zayn pushes his words out with anger. "You're talking about me knowing my limit. Go find yours."

"I know my limits." Niall weakly smiles even if Zayn doesn't see it. Leaning back against the couch, Zayn's arms end up around his shoulder anyway. "I can still do it. I'm not so sure if you believe that I can."

"Yes I do. Don't tell me that I don't." Zayn sighs, look at the empty glass of water at the end of Niall's knee. "There's a room with a sticker on the door which is mine. There's my bathroom in there. Use the red towel behind the door. Any requests for dinner?"

Niall shrugs. "Surprise me."

"What kind of surprise? Between the scale of a peanut butter sandwich to my ass on a plate?" Zayn chuckles, hoping his parents or sisters didn't hear him.

"Figuratively, right?" Niall laughs. "It's past midnight. Anything you make, it'll be your ass on a plate."

Zayn combs through Niall's hair, eying bis profile as he slowly blinks. "No allergies?"

"No tomatoes." Niall gripped Zayn's thigh. "Not allergic. Just not a fan."

"Alright." Then he pressed his lips into his hair. "Take your time. Just don't be loud."

No one could be louder than Zayn at the kitchen, preparing what seems to be sun dried tomato chicken sandwich. Sure, Niall's got a distaste for tomatoes. In Zayn's experience, it all depends on how it's cooked, how it's prepared. When Niall left the bath, it was all finished for them to eat—and Niall completely ate it all without complaints or any idea it was tomatoes at all. He'll tell him someday, when it's all passed them.

* * *

Niall lacks the discipline to go longer than the usual week's worth of practice. That's why they only meet for practice on Friday's but in best efforts Niall wants to do more days. Since it's after work, Zayn visits certain days if he's not tired. He doesn't talk about it anymore. Pressing on the problem sets Niall off to start ticking like a bomb. It's how Zayn got his tendonitis. Practice never seemed to stop, neither did the pain until it shot up a pang up his Achilles, lasting him up until his surgery and the long recovery that stopped practice altogether. No novice starts off 3 hours a week and jumps to 8 hours a day.

Zayn still has that scar behind his ankle. It's a few inches long and a few millimetres wide. Nobody knows it's there. It hides in his jeans and socks. He anticipates the jolt of pain to come springing out on him like a surprise. It hasn't for years. Sometimes, it's the reason why he holds back from doing his most.

The day he comes back after their argument, he fights the sudden urge to leave. His face feels hot, reminds him of the old days he used to stumble in his balance while the teacher watches him make a fool out of himself. Niall didn't expect his presence there so early into his practice hours.

"You're not a hundred percent." Zayn states firmly, keeping his gym bag on his shoulder. "Come back when you are."

"I've been here every single day." Niall huffs, letting his shoulders slouch.

"I could be here every single day. Doing what exactly? I don't know." Zayn takes the water bottle off the bench. "You practice during the hours. Not watch yourself fall apart into the seams."

Niall turned away from the mirror, still letting his body slouch. Zayn could see the bandaids on the side of his foot, his low-shut eyes, and the lack of rest coming from everywhere on his body.

Zayn shoves the water bottle at Niall. He hears the cap's plastic breaking which means he hasn't even touched it at all. "Go home. Ice your feet, eat and drink something, and sleep. Come back on Thursday."

When Niall put his water down to collect his things, he nearly made it halfway below. He gathered his belongings quick, and started slipping into his clothes again. His initial emotion was anger when he stepped in—now it was empathy and sympathy altogether that drove Zayn to send Niall home.

Zayn takes his hand, feeling balmy palms and the heat melting into his own palm. "Before it's too late."

Niall didn't go home to Greg or Denise. After the silence between was understood, why Zayn did what anybody should've done to help someone falling apart, he went home with him.

His bandaids were tended and they had a late dinner together. No they didn't do much but that's exactly what they're supposed to do. If Zayn was still in the company, nobody would accept his way of coaching. Everyone's too keen on pushing. Yes, pushing someone past their limit is good until you can't push them any longer—then what is someone suppose to do?

It gets confusing as it goes. There will be days when the teacher pushes you past your limit, then there will be days when they hold you back. And then the following days will be their turn to know when to give it their all or know when to step back for a breather.

"Naia is still alive. I suppose all is well with her." Niall must be talking about the time he walked into his room and saw the small fish tank on his dresser. It couldn't be that hard to miss.

"My old goldfish died because I fed it too much." Niall shrugs after sharing his story. "I think I had it for a week."

"She's in good hands, I promise." Zayn presses the sponge against a plate, scrubbing until the stiff residue disappears. "Keeps me company."

"I do live two floors below you." Niall laughs quietly. He's waiting at the counter when he could be sleeping. Not sure what's keeping him awake; it couldn't be the chamomile tea he set down for Niall during dinner. And it couldn't be the possible entertainment of Zayn washing the dishes.

"I mean, like when it's midnight or late and I can't sleep." Zayn runs his hands over the running water before turning the tap off.

"I don't know if we're too old for sleepovers." Niall hints.

"It wouldn't make sense if you live two floors below me and we're having a sleepover." Zayn laughs, settling down on a seat across Niall.

He takes Niall's hand in his, gently pressing his thumb along the bones of his fingers. He laughs when he notices the blush from Niall's cheeks. He wants to pull away for his sake but he holds on tighter for his own sake.

"You're persistent." Zayn describes Niall. "Remember when you threw water on Liam so Sophia would end up approaching him?"

"You thought Liam was gonna cut me off." Niall chuckles.

"Yeah. Funny, I cut myself off." Zayn grins, and it falters into the softest and saddest neutral expression he tries to have for Niall.

"Doesn't mean the people you left won't forgive you."

* * *

His feet is planted firmly on the hardwood floor. Alongside him is Niall. He doesn't have an idea of the order of the positions are.

Zayn shows him with his feet until their toes are pointing away from each other and their heels are touching. Niall executes them, just not tact at all. Zayn's not entirely okay with it. He's not dead serious about it either.

"Start on first position and make your way up to five." He grips Niall's shoulder to go on ahead.

"Zayn," Niall blurts out. "Can you show me—one more time?"

"The positions?" Zayn stands beside him. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry if I keep asking." Niall mutters, shaking his head towards himself. "My dumb brain keeps—"

Zayn grabs his shoulder and turns him so they're eye to eye with one another. "Hey, I don't know much about ADHD, but I get that it troubles you a lot. But you're not dumb or an inconvenience. If something is inconveniencing you, then say that it is. If we're not on the same page, put me on. And if I'm not getting it, then don't be afraid to put some sense into my head. Alright? We'll take it slow and easy."

"Y-yeah. I will. Thank you."

Zayn isn't one to guilt Niall about not knowing the basics of ballet. He wasn't going to be the know-it-all that made Niall feel bad about foot positions either. Worst of all, he couldn't be that person who isn't patient. Patience is what they both need to understand each other. It's not that he didn't know how to do them; he just needed to know what sequence, what order they're in. They spend half an hour on foot positions, another half on figuring out Niall's limits on how far he can lean over, how high he can kick, how long he can turn on his toes to complete the hour.

* * *

It wasn't what anybody wanted. Second place just means Niall didn't win. Nobody was sad, but nobody was happy either. That's until Zayn finally takes Niall to the bar he promised to take him when there's something worth being there for. Zayn doesn't go unless he needs to sulk. But he sulks for Niall and Niall's over it. Buy him drinks and he's as happy as a child on Christmas morning. 

Then life gives him another thing to sulk about. There, he orders about two shots.

Guilt easily consumes him, thinking about the missed dates he and Eggsy were supposed to have together that never happened because neither person rescheduled. Eggsy quit his job at the restaurant recently to pursue boxing further. He was on his way home after winning a game that Zayn and Niall were invited to watch but couldn't go to because of the competition. The difference is Eggsy never got home.

Zayn thinks about the pain in his ankle that twisted in each step. It isn't compared to what they say about Eggsy, then Zayn and Niall had to see it for themselves on their way home.

"Hey, dick." Zayn says quietly. It's their thing, and he didn't want Eggsy to forget that. The hospital makes anybody want to forget things.

"Hi dick." Eggsy weakly tries to form a smile.

"How are you holding up?" Zayn taps the frame of the empty chair as he stands behind it.

"Can't be held up." Eggy shrugs. Zayn immediately looks at the wheelchair he's in. "They say I'm lucky to be alive."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Eggsy shakes his head. "At least my step-mom can rub it in my face, say I can't do boxing anymore but still be the doctor she wants."

"Fuck your step-mom." Zayn huffs.

"Dude, no." Eggsy makes a face before he starts to laugh. "Guess I'm moving back to London."

Eggsy, one of the impudent blokes—the British slang got to Zayn—he’s ever had to come by without a choice. The one who walked him into the restaurant, served as the dishwasher first before prep. If there is anything Zayn carried with him, getting to know Eggsy these 3 years he found himself alone, was that Eggsy was in his place too.

He looked out for his own back, met Zayn and looked out for him. Make him feel guilty or not—Zayn’s second chance to start all over, begin a new life—one that was healthy and free from dissociation that he walked around being proud of his life friendless and loveless. Eggsy met him halfway with his awful, yet entertaining personality that easily connected them together. He was the one he truly cared about in his progress to change, the one he was platonically in love with even though they never properly showed it in ways people would naturally do. Zayn didn’t show emotion, neither did Eggsy.

"Let's move in together." Zayn proposes at the top of his head, biting his lip as he grips his friend’s wheelchair. "Could be you and I, plus Niall."

"Oh man.” Eggsy huffs sourly. "I'm gonna be so weak."

"If it makes you feel any better, no one was there for me when I got my achilles surgically fixed." Zayn combs through Eggsy's hair. "And I didn't want anybody to. It sucked like shit."

Zayn was a terrible downer after the surgery. He left before anyone could find him and ask where he'd gone. He ignored messages from his friends, especially Liam. He couldn't do anything for six months and it seemed like the best thing to do—let another six months pass by, and then the next time, let it be 12 months. Doing nothing seemed like the best, until you start to remember your life revolved around something that made people envious. Still, it never got him to go back.

Eggsy brought him around, pushed him out of his parents' flat just to watch a movie, even a walk through the park. Eggsy thought he was terribly sad, and he was. Nobody was there for him just like he wished.

* * *

They move into a moderate apartment owned by a previous artist that had three rooms and a really tight bathroom. Eggsy argued for two rooms, knowing they'd be paying more for three when all Zayn would do is join in Niall's room, or if Niall felt really eager for company, he’d join in Zayn’s bed, let his own room be a vacant area for a guest room—like they have guests to give the room to.

Then again, Zayn didn't really know who he was to Niall. Was he a teacher? A friend? A boyfriend? They kissed twice, but everyone kisses each other. They held hands but anybody holds anyone's hands. He’s watched Niall for a long time, spent long hours out with him to know Niall holds back. He tries—Zayn doesn’t know who Niall tries to be open for. He isn’t a pushover as Zayn thinks of him to be. In their quiet time, they try to learn what each other has been through. Till this day, Niall’s experienced and still striving to excel in ballet without his parents knowing, and Zayn is still an injured cougar who won’t take a step out of its hole.

All the while, he thinks about Eggsy frequently. The last thing Zayn wants to do is revolve his whole time with Niall and leave Eggsy to watch by the sidelines, pitying himself because he’s incapacitated.

Zayn is the cook, Eggsy is the pissy boxer and waiter who helps Zayn when he can, and Niall—he does what he can when he feels like it.

"Man, you are fit!” Niall's laughter breaks the silence in the bath and quiet trickle of the water from the tap into the tub of pooling water. Zayn stands by the door, watches Niall help Eggsy into the tub.

"Hey, fuck off." Eggsy holds back the laugh and makes a pissy face. "Zayn's right there."

"While you two do what you do, I'll be out on the balcony, having a smoke." Zayn starts to take one out already from the packet tucked in his pocket. The habit grew when he began working in the restaurant. It slowly began to die when he started going back to the studio with Niall—watching him move, staying motionless himself.

"We stressing you out?" Eggsy laughs.

"Oh yes." Zayn rolls his eyes. In reality, he feels relaxed. He couldn't be more than delighted right now.

Their view is shit but at least he's out doing his own thing while his parents' flat is still close by. He could see their building—standing tall and luxurious, even more extravagant inside.

Zayn rests his foot up on the railing, counting the seconds until he feels the pain behind his knee. They're high enough that nobody would see whatever they do on the balcony. Smog, mundane, grey, and stinky. Zayn loves it.

"What a life." Niall exhales from behind. It’s like he’s in his mind. "Screaming next door neighbours, the view of 7/11 and Gionni's Pizza. The true New York life."

"Eggsy doing okay?" Zayn asks, pressing the end of his cigarette down on the ashtray as he brings his leg down.

"I think he's trying to be okay. For us." Niall looks at Zayn.

"Yeah. It'll be like that for a while." Eggsy will eventually be free from feeling sorry for himself.

"Is it right to do some practice?" Niall puts a hand on Zayn's hip, smoothening his shirt. "I feel bad. I don’t wanna sound ignorant but he lives with two dancers, and he used to be a boxer until the accident.” The last word falls light as his breath.

"Eggsy isn't like that. You can practice if you want. He just misses boxing and the thrill to fight." You're not the one that stopped him, Zayn wants to add but he doesn’t. The one who did, he’s six feet underground, dead and aware he nearly killed someone else because of his alcohol influenced driving in the winter. Now everyone has to live with something heavy on their shoulders.

Niall snakes his arm around Zayn's back until his fingers reach his shoulder blades. They leaned in together with their heads tilted to the left. They keep close together, keeping their faces no more than an inch apart. They just let their lips do its thing, their tongue if they please. Zayn feels light off his feet with his chest beating against Niall's like they're drumming each other out. No doubt Zayn's mouth tastes like cigarette ash, but Niall's tastes like peppermint and it makes him happy.

They try not to make it a habit when Eggsy's still awake. Zayn tries not to make it a habit without knowing what they are to each other but it doesn’t work out like he wants it to, and it isn’t necessarily a terrible outcome at the end of the night. Eggsy is always the first one in bed but it doesn't mean he's asleep. Knowing him, he hasn’t slept easy these few months he’s recuperating.

There's always a temptation at midnight, when Niall comes into his room and slides into his bed where Zayn's the first one to make a move. There's exactly no door to shut their room, but Zayn thinks people call it a barn door. It's made up of different colours of wood. Zayn guesses that's their door, but he always leaves it open for Niall when he comes in. And then it's shut.

They let their breaths speak for them, and the movement of their hips together. Zayn exhales the loudest when Niall moves on him the most. Gentle pushes against him, it takes over Zayn's mind—makes him want more that he nudges his thigh up between Niall's legs, makes him rub his soft, toned, and milky body on him. Niall doesn't make him beg. Zayn doesn't need to say a word for Niall to do what he pleases.

They're careful with each other, even when Zayn digs his nails into Niall's back. He doesn't scratch him, mutilate his back that his nails are caked with blood. He leaves crescents and presses the pads of his fingertips on his skin. They'll disappear and Zayn's hands will be getting lower and lower, and the moans in his throat will be trying to escape.

It's just like how he dances. Niall dances to make you think you're there. Vivid pictures of places you can't even pronounce, and you're there. They leave you speechless, give you goosebumps down your spine as the window blows. It's their breath that blows together, mixing between the spaces of their lips before they push for a taste. And Niall will go down, press for a taste of Zayn's moist neck.

The climax comes and Zayn shudders under him, feeling the heat between their bodies and the releasing rope in his stomach that makes him relax. Niall presses his forehead against the side of Zayn's head as he catches his breath, feeling the warmth spread up his torso. It trickles slow, down the side of his ribs as his chest heaves. He likes when Niall continues to move him through till he's finished. He can feel Niall pressing up on him, and then back down again, slowly. He breathes against Zayn's face, looks down his neck where he could see the thick muscle of Zayn's neck. When he hits his peak, he twitches forward, moaning into Zayn's skin. And he shuts himself up when he's ready; digs his teeth into Zayn's neck, softly sucking his skin until the hard kissing fades into soft pecks on his collarbone, and then a lick of Zayn's lips that shuts them both up for the night.

* * *

If Eggsy knows something, he won't be afraid to say anything. That's before his accident. It stripped him of his nature somehow; now he sits with teases and curse words for Zayn in his mind not to be heard.

They bring Eggsy with them to practice. He lies on the ground, watching himself from mirror on the ceiling while Zayn helps Niall with his _tournés_.

"Hold it." Zayn holds Niall's hips straight while Niall balances on his toes and raises his leg up to the side at the same time.

"Good." Zayn takes a steps back. "Hold your weight between your bellybutton and the base of your spine."

"I told you that.” The familiar words makes Niall stand on both feet and laugh.

"Reminded." Zayn clicks his tongue. "Take a break."

"Eggsy!" Niall exclaims and Zayn’s head snaps right to the direction of the bench—where Eggsy would’ve been if he didn’t wheel himself to the barre. They jog towards him.

Eggsy isn’t even in the right clothes to be attempting any exercise. He is gripping the two barres to stand up. His wheel chair is pushed back to the corner of the room. He could see flexed veins running up his hand to his arm. Zayn's not surprised Eggsy can hold himself up in the first place but he feels proud for him anyway.

"Think I can do rehab here?" Eggsy asks, biting his lips. His forearm’s muscles are clenching.

"None of us are doctors. We don't know how it goes." Niall shrugs, encouraging his friend to sit back down into his wheelchair.

The lightbulb turns on. "I could ask my dad." Zayn shrugs with a casual grin. "He helped with my ankle and other injuries."

"I'll pay him so he's not doing it against his will." Eggsy strains when he lowers himself into the wheelchair.

"I'm sure my dad won't mind. You're like family at home." Zayn frowns. That's only because he came around so much, Zayn's mom was feeding him breakfast, lunch, and dinner while his dad spoke with him about training too hard and all that informative medical stuff Zayn’s heard a little bit about when he was still doing ballet.

"But why don't you go to a real physiotherapist?" Zayn queries.

"I like it here. It's fun. I get to watch Zayn be a dick to someone that's not me." Laughing Eggsy gets wheeled away by Niall so they could be close to the benches where there's food Zayn’s packed.

"He has lots of expectations." Niall exhales with a smirk, shaking his head.

"I'm the one helping you out." Zayn takes a bite out of an apple.

"Which reminds me." Eggsy winces an eye at Zayn. His tone is suddenly frigid and wary. "Would you guys, like, do your thing in Niall's room since his is far away from mine?"

"I like Zayn's room." Niall drones softly. He has a frown on, even when he looks away from Eggsy.

"You like the dick waiting for you there." Eggsy retaliates. "Or wait till I actually fall asleep since you two are actually pretty quiet."

"Good enough for me." Niall grins when he pulls Zayn in by his waist, nearly tripping. His robust arms are tight around Zayn’s small waist. If he embraced him any harder, Zayn’s mid-section would crack from tension.

"Nice to have you back, Eggsy." Zayn smiles while Niall sways him back and forth. He doesn’t laugh because Niall’s holding him. Eggsy’s smirk disappears when he rolls his eyes at them, bending down to the floor to take a granola bar.

"Fuck you." He snaps, he rips the wrapper.

"Oh?” Zayn raises his eyebrows.

* * *

Lucky for Eggsy, Zayn is still kind enough to ask his dad who hesitantly agreed to help him; hesitant because he can't do it for more than an hour a week which isn't enough for someone like him who’s spent 3 months in a wheelchair when the doctors said he’ll be up on his feet in no time. His dad didn't want Eggsy only appointed to less than minimum of hours required. It isn't fair for him at all.

"It's better than no hours at all. Thank you." Eggsy is entirely more different around Zayn's dad. He’s definitely way nicer, mannered, and not a dick. Totally acceptable under Zayn and Niall’s circumstance with an angry friend.

Zayn turns back to Niall chewing on his snack. There's no practice during the weekends. That'd be one troubling thing in his life he doesn't need. But everyone has their own lunch bag that they all carry in a bigger gym bag. Niall’s trying to eat healthier by letting Zayn pack him what he needs, not what he wants.

"Think you can make me a grilled cheese sandwich when we go home?" Niall asks as he chews on a red grape Zayn must’ve accidentally included in his green ones.

"Not if you keep eating all our cheese." Zayn laughs. "I could just show you how. Have you never made one before?"

"Don't be ashamed but I haven't." Niall looks down at the grapes that are separated from the cheese. He likes the combination.

"Can't beat Eggsy. He's never eaten a waffle in his life." Zayn whispers, still perceptible for his friend to hear.

"You're missing out!" Niall exclaims at Eggsy.

Eggsy struggles to take a step forward. Zayn's dad is by him, outside the railing where he’s walking with him, encouraging him to take his time in the process. He could hear his dad chuckling at Eggsy. "You really never had waffles? That’s absurd.

“I-It doesn't look that special." Says Eggsy back to Niall and to Zayn’s dad.

"We gotta make him one." Niall says in general, for all ears to hear.

Zayn invites their dad for lunch, and they all get together at their flat for grilled cheese sandwiches he had promised Niall he'd make. A step inside their place, Zayn immediately went to their fridge to get the cheese out, left over chicken, and jalapeños out—without even taking his jacket off.

It's as if he's teaching Niall everything when he gives him the slices of bread spread with butter to press around their hot grill. When it's hot enough and the butter is spread around the grill, they flip the bread so they could add the filling.

Crispy and golden, oozing with thick, melted cheese that crunched in each bite they all take out of unison. It's not the traditional home cooked meal his family eats on certain days. Zayn's dad doesn't deny the sandwich and he accepts it, even when Niall accidentally let his stay on the pan for too long and it's dark along the edges and the face of the bread.

"You could take mine." Zayn slides his plate to his dad while he already takes a bite out of his sandwich.

"It tastes gre—oh!" His dad starts to choke and sputter. He grabs his glass of water, chugging it down until he can wipe his mouth. "That's spicy."

"Too much jalapeños?" Zayn laughs when he bites out of his own sandwich.

"It's nothing I can't handle. You know that, beta." His dad shakes his head.

Zayn nods until it's quiet and everyone's dwelling into their mind. Not everyone is used to having a parent around here to talk to about anything, but Zayn did.

His dad isn't one to go to a social gathering so he could meet people and make new friends or colleagues, so starting some kind of conversation with Zayn's friends isn't as easy as it looks. They don't talk to each other as much as they'd like to—knowing they have nothing in common. Yet, the cool thing about his dad is that he's understanding. It must be a doctor thing to know how to listen because even if he can't get a word in, he'll be listening, and that's enough.

Zayn feels like he got his dad's genes the most. He doesn't know what it means for him but he glad he wasn't the confident type to muster each relationship he makes with someone new. On the other hand, Zayn's dry humour and his over-caring personality comes from his mom.

His dad eventually had to leave—another family to go home to, Zayn's family.

"I'm glad you're out." He said before he gave his son a hug and shared their goodbyes to see each other another day.

* * *

Niall's favourite turn is _Illusion_ , just like Zayn's when he was actively. His favourite jump is the _grande jeté_ , and his favourite thing to do sometimes, if he has the support, is to kick his leg up behind him until it nearly reaches high above his head. The one thing Zayn could say is his arch is improving in the least. It's hard to develop a proper one getting older. In Zayn's case, it's hard to get it back without constant practice.

"Why did you start dancing?"

Zayn was standing off to the side when he heard Niall's voice over the silence, arms crossed, eying Niall's feet to see if they're right on the toes. He had stopped now, started some stretches for his arm.

"Didn't like sports." Zayn snorts quietly, arms falling down to his side. "Liked the thought of being able to bring your leg up to a 90 degree angle like any other kid." And he remembers the real reason why. "Initially, I was forced to join in with my cousin."

"Does your cousin still dance?" Niall lets his body relax when he walks over to Zayn, leans his body against him as they lean on the heater.

"He's dead." Zayn blurts out, and his breath escapes the same time as Niall looks at him. He doesn't stare back. "He OD'd two years ago." Niall shifts silently, so Zayn says something else. "Wanna head home? Eggsy's out with his manager."

Niall hesitantly nods before he got his things packed up and ready to go.

If anyone wanted to go down the same path at certain checkpoints of the trail—it's Zayn. The three years were heavy, full of nothing but a train of promises that were made years before, only to be found shattered or empty. His body felt too heavy to pick up for dance, his chest felt too hollow to breathe enough during ballet. He was embedded in that lifestyle of not wanting to see the days the sun shined, see the park leaves turn into warm colours, feel the crunch of snow under his boot. His bed was his best friend, and his duvet was his other love.

Although they weren't in the same company or area of dance, him and Haider were close enough to know the problems each of them had been facing and will face, even when they saw each other once a year. They were the ballet kids—it seemed like no one after them wanted to do it. Too hard, too much, the majority of them said. They are right about every thing. It was too hard, too much expectations and discipline that nobody wanted when they were 6 years old and growing—13 by the time Zayn was old enough to understand.

And they grew to the age where teachers weren't teaching anymore. They were just people who knew more about what you knew, experienced more stage and performances than you. Haider wasn't completely the best—he was better than Zayn in every way—but he was like the others who wanted to be. He was good enough to get an early admission into Paris Opera Ballet school—that school isn't compared to anything in New York.

What went on there for Haider when he was 21 years old, nobody knows but the secret was safely guarded by Zayn who knows the feeling all too well. And maybe now as he's looking back, he shouldn't have guarded such a secret that was meant to be spoken about.

* * *

How he asked—

Niall knew Zayn's body by now like it was a map of the world. Geography was my best subject, Niall had mentioned a couple of months ago. When Niall slipped his hands between Zayn's legs and his fingers reached inside him, he twitched against Niall, hip squeezing against his right hip bone. Niall found a place that made Zayn feel like he was closer to heaven. His fervent breathing cooled the sweat on Niall's neck, sending a shock up his body that made his nipples perk.

He had explored every inch of Zayn with his hand and lips, knows how to make him melt before he could reach his limit of not wanting to stop. There is no stopping or slowing down—faster, Niall, Zayn whispered, harder into me, he wrapped his legs around him. His breath was being pulled out from his throat, dragged out from Niall's relentless fucking, energy harboured now being poured out into his pounding. His arms pushed Zayn's legs closer into his chest, barely leaving any friction to happen as he rocked his hip into him—not thrusting, just rocking.

There was no space left between them as their lips touched. Niall still continued to rock, until his hips left Zayn's. With control and gentle intentions, he pushed back in. Long strokes drew the beautiful moaning from Zayn's mouth, turned his face into a twisting mess Niall wanted to continue to make a mess upon.

"Ever think about—being together?" Zayn decided to take the heat in his hands. The moment was too hot, too deep not to stare up from his pretty pink lips to his pretty blue eyes.

Niall made him come first—slowly and thick, made his bones melt onto the bed. The way his back arched off the bed, nothing ever made him feel like he was on fire. Not even the lights of the performing stage could make his body hot like Niall's skin on him. Following right after, Zayn held him; sweat on his body now on him, long strokes rippling through him. Each time he moaned, his breath stuck against Zayn's skin. And he stiffened seconds later, letting the remaining sounds in his throat escape in Zayn's neck where Niall stayed, cuddled beside him with his face in his neck.

"Everyday." Niall grumbles groggily. Zayn can feel his teeth against his skin; hates how engraved his smile is in his head, how he can see it behind his heavy eyelids. "But not when we're scared of each other." Niall laughs quietly. "How long did it take us to get here?"

"Like, a year." Zayn starts to laugh too.

"I like the possibility of it."

Just not now.

* * *

It wasn't a yes, wasn't a no either. A promise Niall was definitely keeping accountable and holding Zayn dearly to. It was the right choice, because Zayn knew there were things in the past that are holding him back from being honest as he truly can with Niall. Not until we can let go of what holds us back, Zayn translated into his head.

They can sleep together, fuck and/or make love together, eat together, and love each other without the label because the label isn't stopping them from doing so at all. But the label is what makes leaving a hundred times harder if everything doesn't work out the way it's supposed to.

"I really hate the winter to spring transition." They weren't even outside to discuss such a topic which makes Zayn laugh and rumble against Niall. They're trying to see what this whole fuss is with Netflix and chill. Twenty minutes in, it's Netflix and talking. But they can't ignore the part where they already did the chill part two hours ago.

"Suck it up." Out of his conscious, he's staring at Niall's feet before he could catch himself and look up at Niall. Says the one who wears Adidas shoes when there's three inches of snow on the sidewalk, a flick of them behind his heel seeping through his socks.

"You like the slush and muck?" Niall retorts.

"I didn't say that." Zayn huffs. "I'm more of a fall person." He likes the knit clothing and smell of lattes escaping cafés.

"My birthday is in the fall. So you're saying you're a Niall person. I get it." Niall nods with a smile so wide and joyous, Zayn doesn't have the will to shut it down with his cold comebacks.

He gives him a gentle smile, sipping his drink to hold his tongue back.

"Ugh, how could I forget Halloween? I'm sure you love Halloween more than my day of birth." Niall grouses. No, Zayn doesn't. However, Niall lights up afterwards—an epiphany that sends him on his knees, holding Zayn's shoulders. "We should go as characters from Suicide Squad! I'd love to be Joker. I think I got the laugh down."

It's too early for Halloween but it riles Zayn up. "No, no—no, I wanna be Batman."

"Mate, I don't want you to kill me."

"Batman doesn't murder. He hurts his enemies."

"Okay, let's go as—rockstars. That's cool, right?" Niall chuckles. "I could be the guitarist, you could be the drummer, and Eggsy could hold an inflated keytar."

"Keytar in a rock band?" Zayn starts to burst into laughter. "Oh god! We'll be one of the worst bands out there to exist."

Niall continues to muse. "Our band should be called Trois."

"For obvious reasons, of course.

"No. It's just the third position is so fancy and we're fancy. Look at us."

"It's a Saturday night, we're drinking mango juice and watching Gotham." But Zayn likes to think it's a perfect night compared to the dinner Eggsy was bragging about having with his manager at Gordon Ramsay's restaurant.

"Green tea mango, you mean." Niall corrects him. "Look at the bright side of things, Zee."

"I-I'm trying." Zayn smiles into his knees.

"I didn't mean it like that." Niall ducks down and presses a kiss into Zayn's hair, his lengthy hair on the middle section of his head flipped to the left side. "Halloween is just an exciting time."

Can't forget. "So is your birthday."

* * *

It isn't always sugar between them. It's like a kid who's tempted with the sweetness of candy and chocolate, blessed with a rush and an inevitable crash.

He was in the shower when someone was buzzing up their flat. And he was near the door when someone began to knock. From a warm to a molten heart hardening in his chest.

"Fuck off." Zayn swore at the unexpected presence of Liam at their flat.

"Zayn." Niall said softly so he could calm him down. It doesn't work. Seeing Liam made his face twist and eyes focused on the floor the whole entire time Liam was in their flat.

Fuck a lovebird, Zayn thought. And fuck you, Liam. And especially to the host of the night, fuck you, Niall.

The tension continued to grow. Zayn hasn't crossed enough bridges to forgive the argument they had last time they spoke about pursuing ballet all over again and unresolved problems that Niall was suddenly pressing out him that night more than he ever did. That was the disappointing part. He just had to wait.

Because Zayn didn't need an immediate fix from an old friend that thinks he's still able to intrude in his life. Liam always played doctor with him—tried to fix Zayn up so he could be good as new. Liam fed him lots of pills, pursued endless treatments to immediately cure Zayn of his problems. It didn't work out like that, and it never did. Words weren't simple enough. They all just had to wait.

Are you sure you're alright? Liam pressed a few questions like those on Zayn like stickers. You can tell us the truth—why you quit and left us. You don't have to hide anything from us. We're friends, aren't we? Worst of all, It's killing me not knowing anything about you. You never let me in, and I always welcomed you in.

Way to guilt him in.

* * *

 Zayn starts to yell in practice, becoming the pushover that he always hated in the sport. Niall becomes the one who can't take directions without questioning motives and without being given an answer. Niall didn't require any answer. Zayn was his teacher, his coach, the lead in New York Royal Ballet Company.

"Stop." Zayn shook his head, rubbing his face before letting his breath escape. "15 minute break."

Niall didn't like it when Zayn authorized these random breaks to cut into their practice time. There are reasonable times to cut into, ones that don't involve Niall not breaking a sweat or a blister. He knows when he needs a break, knows how long it'll take to fuel up without finding himself digging into dinner.

"I'm really fucking fine." Niall assured Zayn who was refreshing himself with ice water. "Stop the break."

"No." Zayn snaps suddenly. He has a sharp tongue. "You don't wanna focus, you don't want to do what I tell you to do, that's fine."

"So giving me my fourth break will help me dance because..." Niall derides. "You know I can't do things for a long time! That doesn't mean I'm not willing to try."

"You're clearly calling for it. I'm only doing what you want, and you're getting pissy."

"You call break every time I fuck up!" Niall retaliates. "You're wasting time for no reason."

"I could waste more time and head home right now." Zayn threats.

"At least I'll be allowed on the floor without you taking control." Niall mutters.

"What the fuck?" Zayn scoffs. "Take the fucking floor then."

Niall rolls his eyes, yet sincerity is in his voice. "Zayn, I'm sorry."

Zayn ignored him and went to his gym bag. "Floor is yours."

* * *

Zayn rushed out of the studio nearly breaking the window of the door before he had to rush down the stairwell not to be caught by anyone who would be all fired up to stop him. He definitely hasn't been in the mood to screw around with anyone. For 3 days, his face has been hot from anger and his mind keeps going back to his cousin. Seeing Liam brought everything back, although he isn't the one that's done everything to make Zayn be like this. If everybody had waited, the time would have eventually come where Zayn would have been crystal clear to them—an open book that doesn't seem to stop at any pages.

Time is an essence in ballet. He could feel the knives pressed on his neck in every waking moment he went out of the count, too fast, too slow. It was always the same to the teachers, always important to keep in time or everything falls apart. Nobody likes anything falling apart; Zayn has been reminded almost his life.

Haider used to tell him how nobody was able to go home until they got a routine right, that his teacher's screaming is ringing in his ear constantly—no way to stop the reminder of being a failure and a nobody all in one. Their feet would be bleeding throughout the day, smudges of red on the floor were made accountable by the last person out. Sometimes it was Haider. He stayed nights practicing, never got sleep, never ate. And when the parents asked him how school was, he'd always say, it's great.

He stays with his parents' again, left the messages from Eggsy phone just to be ignored. Niall's texted him, and he's unsure if he wants to be forgiving about it.

There are no more corners of New York to hide. Niall has seen them all. Zayn has lived them all.

* * *

The practices stop and more work shifts begin. Without Eggsy, it felt betraying to be in their bar alone. The bartender asked about Eggsy, Zayn couldn't answer because he doesn't know how he's doing. His dad asked him one Saturday if he wanted to come to Eggsy's physiotherapy session. No, and Zayn went back to bed.

His mom says he can't lock himself up again for three years and expect people to move on so easily.

Zayn told his mom, quietly as possible. "Just give me some time."

"I know Haider meant a lot to you. I know him leaving so suddenly wasn't fair. But, you mean a lot to somebody else." His mom reminds him.

Zayn has been waiting for Haider to come visit him for the last 3 years. He hasn't. He's up above the stars looking out for him like he always has.

* * *

Nobody was home when Zayn came into their apartment. His flat smells of cotton, but the mess contradicts the clean smell. Their are bowls and utensils in the sink, clothes left on the ground, the garbage is rising with microwaveable and processed food, and Niall's deodorant stick is left on the table. Zayn doesn't touch anything.

His room is quaint. Everything feels and looks so foreign. His bed has never been made, jackets he has never made a habit of hanging were in his closet. Things were clean in his room.

When Eggsy came home, it was midnight. He was still using the wheelchair.

"Zayn?" He breathes out.

"Yeah." Zayn doesn't look at him. He stays seated on the sofa with water on the coffee table. "I shouldn't have left like that."

"What the fuck is going on?" Eggsy presses, there's a needy tone in his voice Zayn's succumbs to. "You were gone for two weeks! I don't know what I did but I'm fucking sorry, you know? Just don't leave like that. The last person I want cutting me off is you. I-I thought I'd have to go back to London because everything has been sucking lately and I didn't know who to go to."

When Zayn finally looked at Eggsy, he was limping to him, holding the wall with his wheelchair left behind by the door. In no time, he was falling.

"Hey," Zayn exhales. He caught him last minute, and they were both on the floor. For the first time, Eggsy's crying on him, because of him.

"You're my best friend." Zayn reassured him, swallowing the lump in his throat that was pushing him to cry. "You're an asshole sometimes but I don't wanna lose you. Y-you helped me a lot with things t-that made me feel bad for a while but I'm alright now."

"Don't scare us like that." Eggsy pressed his face more into Zayn's thigh. He could see dark spots from his tears.

"Where did you go?" Zayn asks softly, caressing his hair. "You smell—foul."

"The bar." Eggsy exhales. "I hate it there so much."

"I know. Me too." Zayn laughs. "I went there three days ago. Couldn't have a drink without you, though."

Neither did Eggsy who ordered a beer but it was like water to him, he says. The real reason why is because he was out was for some air. He only spent half an hour out before his arms worn out from wheeling himself. Zayn wondered where Niall had gone when he's usually the one that helped Eggsy out. But things change for him too, it wasn't just him.

"I don't know what he does these days." Eggsy tells him. "Sometimes he comes home, sometimes he doesn't. I mean—I warned him about what he was doing behind your back, he said you never made it to boyfriends."

"No. We're just way too different."

"It doesn't mean you can't be together."

"Niall should be able to do what he wants."

"Fucking no. He's a wreck." Eggsy shoves Zayn his keys. "Fucking get him. He's at Output."

"What if I can't find him?" Zayn mutters.

"You're an idiot then. Look harder."

* * *

Nightclubs are hard to get in, especially when the line-ups are long and he couldn't be wasting anymore of his time arguing with the bodyguard who won't let him in without being in line. Yeah, Zayn understands he has protocols, but he's at a club wearing sweats. The last thing he wants is to pick up chicks and horny men up if they aren't Niall Horan.

He's forced to wait outside for hours until the club starts to decrease of people but it seems like it's not happening. The line isn't moving and neither was Zayn's patience level.

"Please, just let me in." Zayn tried to compromise with desperation. "I'm just here to look for someone. Ten minutes tops. You can throw me out here if I'm not gone by then."

Somehow this time, he got in. In sweats and a zip-up hoodie, the attention is all on him than it is on people's partners. The outfit must be really seductive then.

As much as he doesn't want to stay, _KYSA_ by  _Phantogram_  was really putting him in that mood to get high and just lay back. The pulsating lights added to the mood but that was more of a cocaine trip. That, he wouldn't do.An ocean of people and nobody resembled or is Niall at all. It was 2 AM and it bothered him so much Niall would be out so late by himself. It'd be alright if Eggsy or Liam went along with him but he won't let it get to him when he's the reason why he left.

He went to the bar for water, took it fast that he almost choked. He doesn't know if Niall's been here all this time but he has. His hair is a mess, and he looks like he hasn't slept in days.

When he came up to him, he wasn't happy at all. Zayn knows he's got a lot of things to clean up and he'll sew everything he's ripped apart between everyone. He wasn't going to make the same mistake. All of the sudden, Niall's face unreadable, hugged tight around his neck, resting his head against Zayn's.

When Niall didn't visit Zayn's room, Zayn went to him. Niall was still awake by then, tossing back and forth, indecisive whether he should rest on his left or right side. That wasn't really the reason why. It was nice when he figured it out. He was going to rest on his back, his arm hugging around Zayn's head where their faces barely leave an inch, the tip of their noses brushing together after every soft, lazy kiss here and there, both their eyes heavy with fatigue. Zayn likes Niall's fingers curled around his hood, likes it even more when he smooths them over his cheeks.

Niall takes a deep breath. "I fucked up."  
  
"No you didnt." Zayn grins against Niall's lip. "I did. I left, I blamed you for literally nothing, I yelled at you in the rudest way possible. I'm sorry, and don't say I didn't."

"I wasn't." Niall poked his tongue between Zayn's lips before pressing them in between. "But that doesn't mean I fucked up either. So you can't say I haven't either. I'm sorry too."

"Alright," Zayn let his free hand hold Niall's nape. "We're both fucked."

But if there's one thing Niall wants to be honest about, is that he lied about being an open book. Because if anyone here didn't say anything about themselves, it was Niall. Zayn only knew him as the man who took ballet as his hobby, never dedicated himself to the world until Zayn came along. He never said why his parents forbade him from doing ballet, or why Greg never told Niall about Theo until this year. He was left to fill in the blanks just like Niall has been. And Zayn was willing to wait, let his warmth comfort Niall to settle and love him again.

Niall was born in a small town in Ireland with two parents, a brother, and a dog he didn't like much because he peed on him when the dog was a week in living within their family. Ballet was a popular thing up in Northern Ireland, and although his family never had any ties to Belfast or any other populated cities, Niall had tied himself to his curiosity and he was sneaking into buildings of studios where he would watch from the window, because his parents could never afford it for him to attend a class. Not only could they not pay for it, but to Niall's parents, it's dumb and a waste of time. They say he won't get anywhere with stupid hobbies like dance.

He was kicked out a lot, and rumours spread about a little boy running around town watching girls in ballet classes and attending without paying a dime. Everyone knew it was him, and almost everyday at school, he found himself in fights. Three against one, two against one, his class against one. He was always in the office—bruised, bleeding, crying, pissed off. He was switched around through four different schools before he could consider it done. Even then, school tormented him. He could barely understand what's going on and he knew his dad tried his best to help him with his homework. It didn't do him solid. Almost every summer he was in school for failing the course.

He wasn't a fit kid who could hold himself up from his toes but he tried for so long, figured it out through the pictures in ballet books from the library. It came subconscious he was doing the splits and high kicks around the house but it was definitely happening and he was getting there. His toenails often cracked and bled and he had found himself walking around with socks, sometimes bloody socks around the house.

His parents already resented him for making their family name a tainted one in town, so he couldn't let them know he was still pursing this stupid thing of his. And his brother was given the burden to always watch over Niall because of his ADHD so he had no life outside Niall until he left and moved to New York with his wife. It took him 29 years, 13 he spent with Niall, then a few more when Niall joined him in New York because his parents were willing to spend a lot for his education.

Niall told it like he was having a laugh throughout his life, cracked up a few jokes about his parents being temperamental naggers, his town being so annoyingly judgemental and negative. But one thing he could never do was mock his brother who had a part of his life taken away when he was 8 because his parents forced him to watch Niall. He wouldn't blame his brother if he thought about killing him in his sleep.

Zayn called it quits after half an hour. He could tell Niall was about to break if he tried to carry more weight than he can telling Zayn about things that made him hold back a lot. Even with one word, it was enough for Zayn to understand Niall's taking a brave step forward.

"Don't look at me any different, okay?" Niall groans, tucking his face into his duvet. "I was weak, yeah—"

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Zayn sits up, huffing as he watched at Niall looking up at him. Everything about him was soft, even the sad gaze in his eyes. "You may be the most annoying friend I've ever had and and you run me fucking crazy sometimes but its in your best interest. You're so strong, Niall. I see it everyday. The shit that's happened, it isn't something I'd ever wish on anyone. But look where you are now. New York Company wants you, and they don't even know you've gone and trained all on your own."

"I failed Kinesiology twice." Niall laughs quietly.

"That's okay, Niall. It was never meant for you to take." Zayn caressed his hand down Niall's shoulder arm.

"My parents don't know."

"And they don't know you're one of the best dancers I've ever seen." Zayn leaned in, kissing into his hair. "Even if you aren't, you are so much more than what you see in yourself."

"So are you." Niall tells him as Zayn pulls away. "You don't think anybody sees that in you?" Before Zayn can explain himself, why he doesn't agree, Niall holds his chin to hold his gaze. "You're built like a fucking labyrinth—complex and tough, yes—but you've got something that draws people in. I'm still making my way in."

Open mouth, he pushed hard against Niall's mouth, grabbing his nape, sucking a deep breath as he goes in, full aggression and force. Niall pulls Zayn impossibly closer, both moaning and groaning. Zayn's able to get his free hand and cup his hand right over Niall's semi-bulge pushing through his sweats.

"You want me?" Niall juts his hips into Zayn's grasp, squeezing and rubbing him all over from the outside.

"No shit." Zayn groans into the kiss. "I ruined the moment though, didn't I?"

"Not at all." Niall tilts his head back as his hands tug at the string of Zayn's sweats, letting the look of lust translate between their eyes. Their lips brushed until Zayn pulled back to take everything he had on off of his body. "Was sorta getting antsy."

"It's happening again?" Zayn wanted to make sure. He got back on the same spot beside Niall, letting inches space between their faces. The idiot still hasn't gotten his pants off but the whole laid back look he has going on right now with one of his leg propped up and arms behind his head.

"Of course it is." Niall grabbed his face, pulling him in until he was licking in his mouth, pace quickening the same time their breathing deepened.

"I—" Zayn exhales, his eyebrows pushed in.

"What?" Niall moaned quietly. They pulled back far enough they can get their few words out.

However, Zayn shook his head. "Nothing." He grinned, and slipped his hand over Niall's nape, letting their mouths lead them further than simple touches.

You can push Zayn over his limit and all he'd do is ice his feet and take a bath. Zayn's limit could only be pushed over so many times that he'll need to do more than put cold water on himself. Maybe this time as well, he has to. His toes curled until they hurt, along with his nails that dug into his palm. Niall fucked him in between his legs, spread wide open in the air—took his ability to be able to grip on something till the excruciating orgasm was gone from the pits of his balls.

He lost count how many times he's reached the verge of coming. Niall toyed with him and maybe through all this searing pain of wanting to come, he loved the pain not to want to stop. His eyes prickled with tears, his crying shook out every long stroke Niall tortured him with, wouldn't even touch him in that one spot he's been begging for to be fucked. It felt so anticlimactic, moaning about coming before Niall stopped moving, teased him with a slow fuck before Zayn could take his words back. It was hell.

So when he came after being denied the other six or ten times, he couldn't move to save his life. He panted with his forearm over his forehead, drained from absolutely doing nothing but lying there to be fucked. The galaxy was in his eyes—more stars than he can ever count; he felt surreal right now. He couldn't even tell if they were finished. Though Niall must've came already to have pulled out and let his legs relax. He was there on his chest—sweat and all, kissing around, away from his sensitive nipples that he teased enough in the beginning. Everything was slowing down and Zayn was beginning to see clearly.

"What's so funny?" Zayn could hear Niall chuckling on his sternum. His hand slips through his hair, and he can't help but smile at him. Niall's eyes are barely open, and he can barely keep his smile up without looking so smug either; the lack of fatigue is running him down. Yet, he's got blown out pupils that makes Zayn wonder where the hell he is right now.

"Maybe it's the sex talking, but—" Niall lets his arm hold his head up. With it over Zayn's shoulder, it feels like Niall's pinning him down on the bed. "You look like morning."

"I do?" Zayn laughs quietly. It wasn't funny to him more than it is sweet that it has him flustering under his tan and sweaty face.

"Yeah, like—messy hair, surrounded by pillows and the duvet, your tired eyes—you look soft, sorta. It's, nice."

"The other times I'm not?" Zayn pokes Niall's cheek, finger right over his freckle.

"No." Niall groans weakly. "I just—it'd be nice to wake up to you. All the time. And like, make it just between us. I wanna get used to you."

"You don't wanna be friends anymore?" Zayn snorts quietly. "You always wake up to me. What's different?"

"No." Niall starts to chuckle quietly. "I don't know. I just—I want it to be different now. And not even being my friend, you always had your best interests for me. You helped me out with certain things I couldn't have done myself."

"What are you saying?" Zayn asks quietly.

Niall swallows before he ducks his face in Zayn's neck, smiling into his skin. "I'm saying, I love you, Zayn Malik."

"Really? That's not fair." Zayn groans.

"What?"

"I couldn't say it earlier but you beat me to it. I don't know why. I think I was scared when I really shouldn't be." Zayn puffs at himself. "And I know you don't need me to tell you this, but you're so much more. And I haven't seen all of it yet and I'm looking forward to."

"And what are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying, I love you too. Niall Horan."

"I'm guessing dick gets you sappy?" Niall snorts to himself.

"Really, after all that—nothing." Zayn nods and continue to nod as he looks at the ceiling. Okay.

"No—Zayn." Niall's enjoying this way too much. He laughs as he shifts up to Zayn's face, holding his cheek. The smile against his lips reminds him of honey and a field of rye in the summer.

It's probably the sweetest kiss they've shared. He's got his arms wrapped around Niall with his face being held so tenderly, and his lips feel like rose petals on the morning with its dew. It feels like nothing matters and it'll only be a matter of time before shit catches up to them, and they'll deal with it regardless—it'll just be less rainbows and flowers. More New York smog and grilled cheese sandwiches.

* * *

"Wanna get drinks at the bar tonight?" Zayn asks especially quiet for Niall. His head is on Zayn's thighs. They're on the couch watching the Food Network. At this hour, they're watching _Chopped_. 

"I thought bars weren't your thing." Niall says against his chest. "Was a place of sulking."

"Brooklyn Nets are playing against OKC." Zayn shrugs.

"Just you and me?" Niall nibbles weakly on his lips.

"Yeah." Zayn exhales, nodding his fingers comb into Niall's hair. "I like basketball games."

"I like the hype." Niall laughs quietly. "But I suppose the game is alright."

"After tonight, you'll love it." 

"I believe you." 

Zayn didn't like that they've resorted to microwaveable dinners and instant noodles. As good as it could be, Zayn's meals are better. A big round of grocery shopping happened would happen in the later week, Zayn would end up being their cook forever. He could already hear the voices of the children he lives with cheering for him.

Eggsy said Niall tried to cook for them one time while Zayn was gone. It didn't go so well; Niall nearly burned their newest pan. Zayn could see the after-burn marks on it.

They got to the bar late, 15 minutes into the game. It didn't matter much to Zayn as he really focused on being here with Niall. They get a booth seat with a T.V inserted into the wall so none of them didn't have to look up to the high heavens to see the score and game.

Particularly today, the chicken wings are cheap and this place comes across 3 dozen flavours of sauce and 6 levels of hot and spicy. In an hour, they end up killing 2 sets, and Niall's wanting more with a cold pint.

"OKC is doing way better than Nets." Niall holds his chin with his elbow on the table. "OKC is killing it!"

"Niall, you can't say that!" Zayn snorts and laughs all in one. "You sound like the enemy."

"I'm switching sides." Niall declares with a fist on the table at the same time half time begins with the scores 40-48. You could guess who's leading.

"Have you been practicing?" The question comes completely out of the blue but Niall's feet playing against his reminds him of the pace they follow.

"A bit. I-I couldn't really get out of bed after—yeah, you know." He combs through his hair.

"You wonder why I don't dance, and i-it's because of... You know." Zayn fumbles with the corner of the napkin.

"You're talking about—your cousin, right?" Niall's voice fell to a soft tone that gave Zayn goosebumps.

"Yeah," Zayn blinks, taking Niall's pint. "Let me get a sip in to make it easier."

"Zayn," Niall stops him. "Let me hear it from you."

Zayn puts the pint down, blowing out a gusty breath when he looks around. The truth is, talking to Niall should be easy, it should come so easy as dotting an "i" and breathing. He doesn't want it to be hard because Niall has to be the nicest thing that came invading in his life since they first met. His persistence is what got him to talk to him in the first place, and he can't lie that he loved someone trying to get to know him. Yet, if it isn't hard for Zayn, then it means they're not getting anywhere.

"He said his teacher used to yell mean things to him, like how terrible he was, and pushed him over like no other student." Zayn looks to the game that came back a few minutes, hoping Niall's attention would transfer to the game but he nudged Zayn to continue. "He told me through emails and messages about wanting to quit so bad. But he couldn't because his teacher pushed him to do better than better and he wanted to prove it."

"Okay." Niall nods. Zayn knew he was trying his best to focus on his story. Even when Niall spaced back to the game, there was some way Zayn can tell he's listening.

"His teacher didn't think he was improving, but he was practicing more hours than he was sleeping." Zayn huffs. "But I-I didn't think it was coming. He told me he was coming home and we'd go out holiday shopping and shit—"

"Give me a safe word and we'll stop and go home." Niall cuts in before Zayn could continue.

"The noise helps me." He doesn't want to go home where he'll be able to hear the blood flow in his head. "We'll just stop."

"Okay." Niall nods.

"Ballet felt like that to me too." Zayn suddenly begins and he swallows afterwards. "Just being under the spotlight of an audience of 1,000, hearing people say things about a move I'll do then—it was a broken record in my mind."

"How long has this been happening?" Niall's eyebrows knit.

"It stopped, I promised." Zayn shakes his head. "It was during my time in the company. There wasn't a teacher, exactly. More of a director, like the head. They embarrass each new dancer, make them do the routines until they get it right then the next person goes. That was me for a while. And I hated it."

"I had to get out. I was losing my mind." Zayn says rushed. "It was great and beautiful at first, but I didn't wanna go back when my tendon screwed up. Like—I hated it so much, what the pressure was doing to me, and what it was doing to my cousin for him to—stop."

Niall slipped in beside Zayn this time as he caught his breath through a sip of his sweet tea. The ice melted so it was less sweet than it's supposed to be but he drained it down to the bottom before he leaned back against the seat with Niall's arm around his shoulder. He was sitting close enough to press his face into his neck, let the wave of his tears hit the beach of his skin and let it ruin everything.

"I love it, but when I got fired, I felt relieved. I was allowed to restart." Zayn laughs quietly. "So I restarted everything. Like I was starting my real life when I got my job at the restaurant, bonded with my family more than I have growing up."

"And then you came along after 3 years, I don't know what it means. Liam did too but, you—" Zayn thinks for a second. "You invited me to a studio and wanted help practicing. I didn't want to but, like I needed to I think, for my sake."

"You never did dance for me." Niall says with a growing smirk to ease the conversation down. "Like properly."

"I can't. I wish I could, but it's hard to think about doing it again when my partner isn't around to, like—be there for me." Zayn looks down to the outline of his phone in his pocket. "The last thing he told me was, 'don't stop dancing. You wouldn't want 10 years of your dedication falling into the dirt because you're tired and stressed.' He said it would go away. It never went away for him and look where he is. I don't know what to believe."

Finally, Zayn is able to look at him and give him that smile he gave him for the very first time they saw each other. He was finished, and Niall may not have anything to say after that so silence will presume until everything has caught up between them.

Niall just calls for the waitress to get their wings taken to-go and pressed closer against Zayn with his hand caressing his shoulder through his knit.  
  
"Thanks for telling me that." Niall smiles.

"Took me 3 years to get it all out, but sure." Zayn shrugs.

"And I'm really glad you did." Niall kissed him in his hair.

* * *

"Let's go to the studio," Niall mused after they left the bar.

Zayn hasn't seen it in three weeks. There weren't any dramatic changes; the floor still had its light colour, the mirror still covered the wall and ceiling. The floor is even waxed which explains Zayn's ability to slide against the floor on his socks. They weren't there to practice, frankly, Zayn had no clue what they were doing but Niall took his phone out and put it on the dock of a stereo, so Zayn guesses they're practicing? With a full stomach of chicken and beer?

"Believe him, Zayn." Says Niall, catching him off-guard by the bench. "I know it's hard to come back from a loss but, he is right. He'd want you to do it for yourself. Now that you're fired, you can finally do what you want."

"How?" Zayn exhales. He laughs even, because he has no idea what to do to start dancing again. Is he supposed to throw his limbs up in the air? Suddenly do a spin and the splits?

"Be my partner." Niall smiles.

"Your partner?" Zayn makes sure he heard right.

"You've been teaching me for so long. But I don't need a teacher anymore, and you need a partner in this crazy world." Niall's starts to explain like it's a proposition they're about to make with each other. "You want someone to understand you. Truth is, I won't because you had somebody in your life that went through this whole journey with you. But I'll try because I never had anyone with me and it sounds exciting to have somebody be the fucking Bonnie to me Clyde."

"Niall, we're not shooting banks." Zayn can't help but laugh.

"But it feels like a rush when I'm with you." Niall sighs. "Your cousin is probably five hundred times way better than me in ballet but I'm a great laugh. So, yes or no?"

"I haven't actually danced with somebody." Zayn's eyes grew big for a second. If it wasn't obvious, he wasn't parading around with his partner and doing a routine where he's holding them above his head. He didn't even do that with his cousin—he just meant partner as someone who went along with him. Maybe Niall means both.

Niall showed him wrong. As soon as the electronic beeps and synth sounds erupted the studio and the studio band kicked in, Niall grabbed, pulled him in, singing the lyrics to a song Zayn isn't familiar with but is beginning to admire when the chorus hits. It makes him laugh when the weird robotic beeping comes back—it must be a keytar effect.

The thing is, Zayn can dance. But he truly can't dance. Although, as the second chorus verse was coming and watching Niall lose himself to the electronic synth pop music was pulling so much lose threads from Zayn that held him back from being free.

"This isn't the dancing I was thinking about." Zayn laughs. Niall was dancing and jumping around him, letting his knees bob to the beat of beeps. "I want it all, I want it all, Zayn!" Niall sang the lyrics that made Zayn laugh even more that he was turning red.

 _Baby, there's no better time, no better time, baby, we can't find,_ Niall sang with a frown that was supposed to be a smile to Zayn doing a really weird dance. Testing warm waters, Zayn thought. Maybe he won't anymore. But Niall starts to sing louder than the song, glares when Zayn starts to take a step back

 _With eternal love, the stars above, all there is and ever was. I want it all, I want it all, I want it all, I want it all,_ Niall sings as he points at Zayn. He starts to laugh some more.

 _A blade of grass, a grain of sand, the moonlit sea to hold your hand,_ Niall suddenly takes Zayn's hand and spins him. Niall fucking spins Zayn. _I want it all, I want it all, I want it all, I want it all._ Niall continued to dance, and Zayn was trying, by any means looking like the biggest fool between the two of them, at least it was making Niall laugh as much as he was.

It wasn't just one song, it was a whole playlist from pop to rhythm and blues which brought another few new moves from Niall that made him look like a back-dancer. Rap came into, because Niall couldn't not have Hotline Bling and do the weird telephone move like Drake. It kept the both of them laughing, and Zayn isn't sure what Niall's trying to prove. There's plenty of things like he's really fun at parties and clubs, he dances like he's living his life, and his good choices of songs.

Yet, Zayn focuses on the only one that might matter to the both of them—he's willing to make them being together work, and whatever problem comes to face one of them, they should be there for each other, like Superman and Batman. And dance is just a big thing they have in common, among other things—maybe about five things before Niall's ready to argue that black beans on a Chipotle burrito is better than pinto.

Zayn kisses him during XO. It was a time to slow down and Zayn couldn't think of anything better than pulling Niall in for a kiss that made him feel his heart more, felt it pounding out from his ribcage. Niall's lips tasted sweet like a Thai sauce but ignored the idea of eating the chicken wings they never finished because kissing Niall was better than the three different variety of chicken wings in their container right now. Or supposed to be.

"I'm hungry." Niall exhales. "Totally eying the chicken right now."

"Way to go." Zayn scoffs.

"I totally meant you." Niall pulled him in again, breaking the seams of his lips with a gentle lick. Zayn tastes like Parmesan.

* * *

Niall started practicing again and Zayn was still easing himself into it by showing Niall more moves that involves running and being in the air. It wasn't dancing, he was still teaching Niall, but Niall was teaching him something else nobody could teach him.

He was still learning to cope with it all, accept that Haider would want him to keep going even when things seem too tough to deal with. Time is all anyone needs, and Zayn's got plenty of hours to spend without worrying plenty anymore.

Somehow, Eggsy finding a date is because of the presence he gets from the two around the flat. Even when they're trying not to be the type of people who touch each other too much in front of their friends; it happens subconsciously.

They don't do much but practice and keep their place neat. Zayn works when he can and Niall's really busting his ass down at Starbucks, and Eggsy is getting funds from London since boxing isn't working out so well right now.

He's out on dates with her at their flat. Zayn helps with dinner, and Eggsy's made sure to her that he isn't trying anything with her when his roommates are in their room doing worse.

There's nothing to prove it other than their word that Eggsy won't believe. They lie down together, kiss each other a few times. This one time, Zayn massages Niall's tense muscles until he's nearly falling asleep and Niall reminds himself to tell Zayn, talk to Liam.

"About what?" Zayn queries. He slips off of Niall's back and joins beside him where the both turn to the side and Niall wraps around his back.

"You restarted your life without him." Niall reminds him.

"It's not that easy."

"Nothing you've ever done was easy." Niall pushes his hips in more. "In other news, think Eggsy can go farther than 3 dates? So he doesn't internally hate us?"

"He can. He isn't that bad when it comes to dating. I mean, he hides 80% of his real personality on first dates." Zayn grins. He remembers Eggsy not telling anybody that he has a tongue of a sailor and a habit of saying dick too much.

"How about the rest?"

"There's a reason why he has 2 ex's."

"Long term?"

"Yeah. Like, between 1-2 years."

"Not bad. My longest has been at least eight months."

"Well, I didn't date." Zayn could if he had wanted to. He had about 2 happen with different people, and it didn't go any farther than coffee and a movie.

"That's what I like to hear!" Niall laughs.

"You sound so lame." Zayn rolls his eyes.

"Dude, I want food but they're like right outside." Niall's stomach rumbles the same time. "I should've grabbed something."

"We should've gone out instead."

"Not with the status of my wallet." Niall huffs.

"Out to the park. For a walk."

"That's too late. You could walk around here, if you could get over my stuff."

"You mean pace? With the view of your Ireland flag on the wall with Arsenal on the other side? It's like a teenager's room."

"View of me. I could do a pose."

"You're falling asleep!" Zayn exclaims.

"Keep your voice down. We don't want Eggsy's date being scared of us."

"Why would she be scared of us?"

"His roommates are yelling at each other, doing who knows what?"

"Talking. If you want," Zayn turns towards Niall, staring deep into his blue eyes that he could drown in them. "We could be doing something else that doesn't involve any talking."

From blue to pink, he looks down at his lips—gently pressing between his lips. He feels Niall's smile against his lips. It slowly grows deeper and their lips linger together longer than a second. There's nothing louder than the soft smack of their lips parting, and nothing quieter than when they're together—not even their breath escaping between them could be heard against a pin drop.

Niall licks his lips, giving him one sweet kiss before he laughs. "I fucking love kissing you but I'm really craving a Big Mac right now."

"And I wanna walk, so—" Zayn shrugs his shoulder, pecking Niall's lips before he gets up to find his grey knit sweater and jeans on the floor that he stripped from when he joined Niall in bed.

A mutual agreement leads to them sliding their door and peeking out to see Eggsy and his date in the living room with mugs of hot chocolate, sweet of sugar and cocoa that lingers in the air that makes Zayn smile for him.

From the dates he's heard Eggsy's been in, this one is the one that hasn't involved any beer or clubs. Zayn doesn't think Eggsy's ever really been in one before—a real one that involves having dinner and desert, doing something exciting and fun.

His date catches them spying, and she starts to laugh. She's been here twice now so she knows them well enough to say hi without being afraid of them. Zayn remembers that her name is Perrie—her wavy blonde hair and big blue eyes makes them feel inadequate and Niall isn't really taking it that well. If this was a contest, she would totally win being the cutest.

"We're going out." Zayn takes a step out, his lips curl as he holds his laugh in. "Hope your night is going to go well without us."

"Zayn meant it like, that it continues." Niall stammers. "Because we were never here."

"That's right." Zayn nods.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry," Eggsy apologizes all the while Zayn steps into the bathroom so he could brush his teeth.

"If you're still here, we could bring back nuggets for you to share." Niall slips into his jean jacket.

"Yeah, I'll be here if Eggsy doesn't mind me staying late." Perrie looks at Eggsy and Niall will swear on his grave that Eggsy was blushing when he smiles at her as he says yes.

"Cool!" Niall throws a thumbs up. Then he suddenly slams the wall. "Zayn! Hurry up! Fuck, it's just McDonalds."

"Niall, I am willing to bet you that McDonalds is Irish." Zayn comes out from the bathroom.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Niall exclaims, holding the door open for Zayn even though he doesn't need to. "Is it because of the red hair or the last name?"

The conversation goes until the door shuts behind them and even at the elevator where Niall's cussing at Zayn.

* * *

The sun has passed behind the grey clouds that slowly roll in, a few raindrops falling onto the soft mud, and Zayn is taking every second of today to transform each hour into valuable time for Haider. He isn't going to mourn on his birthday, cry because he's not here. He's gonna make things right in his life and it won't be easy at all.

Zayn remembers Liam's flat; warm, minimal, and no furniture or rug actually matches. It has Sophia's touch—since they've been living together for 2 years now. They have photos together, and Zayn smiles when he sees one with him.

"I think you called me a lonely lovebird, and you were right." He laughs internally at his words, lonely lovebird.

"I was?" Liam's eyebrow quirks.

"I felt like I was." Zayn tells him, holding his knees. "My cousin died, I was feeling like shit for almost three years before I got fired, and flipped my own life."

"It may be too late now but I'll always be here if you need to talk, need a place to stay—I'm still here looking out for you." Liam nods firmly.

"No, it isn't late." Zayn tries to smile. "I just wanna say I'm sorry I made it seem like your fault. It was my own vices of starting a really clean slate."

"I'm glad you got over them."

"The thing is, I haven't actually. It's difficult to accept these things. I'm gonna have to live with them but I'm gonna try not to let it consume me." Zayn sighs, patting his knees.

"I'm glad." Liam shuffles in his spot, then smiles; his eyes crinkle at the same time.

"I won't be going back to the company but I've got Niall with me—I'm gonna start dancing again. I don't know when or where but I'm going to for myself." Zayn leans back against the couch where the air escapes from the leather, and brings a knee up.

"So you did end up together?" Liam's voice is suggesting. Zayn tries to ignore Liam's motive in this conversation. Except, he smiles when this is the first time Liam has ever teased him about anyone in many years, he'll give him the freedom. It's an excusable way to brag about Niall and him when Eggsy shuts him down by telling him he's so far gone.

"He's great." Zayn snorts and shrugs at the same time.

"I'm a great matchmaker aren't I?" Liam puts a hand on his chest, fluttering his eyelashes. "Did you tell him what you told me?"

"Yeah. I told him. Kind of deserves to know why his teacher is teaching him some techniques but doesn't dance."

"Teacher?" Liam's tone raises. "Is this a role play? Me and Sophia do some. I'm her naughty stu—"

"Liam, no!" Zayn exclaims, almost distraught. "I really do teach him."

"Oh! That's so cute." Liam laughs. "Ever dance together? Crawl over him? Drag your hand up his leg? Let him wrap your legs around your hip?"

"I think you watch too much So You Think You Can Dance." Zayn huffs.

"I'm just asking." Liam holds his hands up in defence. "Those routines get pretty steamy."

"Yeah, it's called emotion." Zayn laughs. "But I mean, we're both pretty flexible so sex is great."

"He's like—the only sex you get. Before him, you were practically deprived. So what, you haven't had sex for 4 years until now?"

"Yes I have!" Zayn scoffs. "It doesn't matter. At least I know I'm clean."

"Is he?"

"He told me he was waiting for me. Didn't do anything with anybody while we—yeah." Zayn sighs. "Also, he's very outspoken. Cheered about passing his HIV test, waved the paper around. Almost cried when the doctor told him he needs to get glasses."

"Ugh, he's really fucking odd." Liam laughs. "A good match."

"And how about you and Sophia?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but we're engaged."

"Uh. Congrats? I don't take it the wrong way?"

"Oh. We've been engaged for four months." Liam nods as he watches Zayn's eyes grow bigger.

"Wanna celebrate?" Zayn asks.

"You have time to celebrate?" Liam jokes.

"Yeah. We could go to a paint gun range. I could finally meet Sophia, you could meet Eggsy and his date Perrie, and me and Niall could watch hell unfold before us."

"It's a war against couples..." Liam blows a heavy breath out.

"Yeah." Zayn nods. "Me and Niall are totally going to destroy you all."

* * *

The paint ball range isn't exactly the place to get to know each other with paint balls darting across the battle ground. The only conversation he's had with Sophia is how they're going to lose and she fought back by aiming her gun fingers on his forehead. As much as Eggsy wanted to join in, he couldn't with his legs still in pain so he and Perrie watched from the sidelines. While Eggsy cheered for Zayn, Perrie cheered for Sophia.

Zayn and Niall were dressed the same way as Liam and Sophia so how they're going to tell each other apart when they separate, they don't know. But Niall's got the camouflage thing going down head to toe, he's like a walking bush. His face is even painted green and brown and it doesn't even need to be when they're wearing helmets the whole time.

For now, they're still together, plotting below the hill which is probably the worst place to be at. They'll be like cornered animals. At least they'll be able to see them coming from the top because they're at the edge of the boundary. There are shots firing from a distance; their teammates are doing plenty more work than they are and it doesn't bother them one bit.

"You're so cute when you're in stealth mode." Niall whispers, resting his head against a pile of wood and sticks. Zayn is always taken aback to the multitude of Niall's compliments that bloom out of nowhere and everywhere they could possibly be. Even deep into the woods, wearing camouflage jumpsuits and covered in mud, wearing helmets dark enough to cover each other's faces, Niall still manages to tug at Zayn's heart and it never gets old.

"Now isn't the time to be flirting." Zayn hisses, smirking inside his helmet, hoping his gun is unnoticeable.

"You look like a fucking character from Call of Duty." Niall laughs. Zayn turns to him, and Niall doesn't realize the deadpan stare he's getting from him.

"So do you." Zayn replies. "Are you enjoying this, Bonnie?"

"Oh, yes Clyde. Except I'm internally panicking because it's been fifteen minutes and the last shots that have been fired were exactly six minutes ago. So either, it's a waiting game or something big is about to happen."

"If we weren't wearing this helmet, I'd kiss you." Says Zayn. Hell, he can't deny that he always wants to. He'll take every moment he can just to have Niall close to him. "Seems like you're the brains in this mission."

Zayn has the worst vision happening right now with this helmet covering his peripheral vision and darkening everything. But he knows two deers aren't running around their game right now.

"Hey," Zayn whispers then he nudges Niall.

Niall shuffles until he's on his knees and looking up the hill. He brings his gun up on the wood, focused on his 2 o'clock through his scope.

"I think that's them." Niall hisses. "Take the one on the left on the count of three. I'll take the right."

Zayn sucks a breath in when he focuses on the butch figure trying to get down the hill without rolling. He could hear sticks cracking under their boots through his helmet. Once he's got his aim fixed, hears the last number in the countdown, he rapidly pulls the trigger twice and the stain explodes on their shoulder the same time he hears the paint from Niall's gun whip out to the second person. Ow! What the fuck! It breaks the silence of the woods and they both duck down with their guns.

Niall snorts. "That totally sucks. They lost."

"I don't think that's them..." Zayn drones. Whoops.

"Doesn't matter. We got these bastards."

"I think they're on our team...?" Zayn squints at them.

"Oh god!" Niall gasps in horror. "I really do need glasses!"

"Niall! You idiot!" Zayn punches Niall's stomach but it's too soft for Niall to be in pain.

"Zayn, stop!" Niall whines at the constant physical contact. "You're gonna get us shot!"

"Too late!" Sophia starts to sing through her helmet. She stands over them, by their sides where she aims her gun at Niall. Inevitable, her paint-gun goes off. Liam laughs beside her, cheering with his arms and gun up in the air.

"Oh god, I've been shot!" Niall groans, his back glowing bright red.

"Hahaha—ow!" Zayn suddenly yelps, sporting the same colour on his shoulder. He tries to reach for the paint, gets some on his fingers before he falls into Niall's lap.

"Dinner is on you two." Sophia laughs, carrying her gun against her torso.

"Why did you shoot me first?" Niall whines and starts to fake sob.

"Nothing personal, honey. Li wanted me to get both of you guys so he doesn't get in trouble." She turns to Liam, nudging him with her elbow. "I for one, don't care if you two despise me afterwards. I feed off your anger."

"Your fiancée is evil." Niall huffs, patting Zayn's shoulder. He begins to rub down his arm. "She has scarred Zee."

"No, I'm pretty good." Zayn laughs. He holds himself up long enough to take his helmet off, show his messy hair to everyone. It's not safe to be out with a helmet but he's already been shot.

Niall takes his off too; all the paint has sweated off his face and he looks like he's been through hell and back with his hair disheveled. No doubt Zayn finds it all so attractive.

They're stuck in a battlefield, promised each other they'll win this war. Zayn's impressed they've survived long enough into the game. The thing that makes him happy is the failure of their promise. Winning didn't matter to Zayn if Niall wasn't by his side to do it. Zayn promises he isn't cheesy. He just finds the beauty in the moment of their loss, that they're having fun without worrying about a single thing anymore.

It's odd to be thinking about it right now in the middle of the woods—he can't help it. Zayn smiles when he closes the space between their lips, licks between the seams of Niall's lips, holding his nape when they spend their seconds locking their lips together.

"Oh come on, Liam." Sophia takes his hand. "Gotta shoot more of their teammates."

"We'll see you for dinner! I think." Liam mutters.

"Yeah, yeah..." Niall combs Zayn's hair back, pressing between Zayn's plump and soft lips.

* * *

They take it slow that night; impossibly slower than they could think they're going, but they do. It'll always be different than before; their feelings grow bigger and deeper, and Zayn is thinking he's out of his mind each night to finally find somebody to care about, be cared for, and have his problems pulled away by the waves of his troubling sea.

Niall's lips capture his with soft intentions. He doesn't nibble or bite even if Zayn loves the way his teeth gently teases him. It's like holding hands—they fit perfectly.

Zayn's vision is upside down and hazed by the running fever of his body being controlled and manipulated to be in a position so obscene to anybody's eyes. Niall fits right between his thighs, legs open as invitation to do what he wishes with him. He feels so good, so high up in the clouds; his fingers grip Niall's sheets, knuckles burning white as the sky in winter.

The sensation snakes up his spine, makes him curve his back in the most beautiful way possible. Niall makes him this way; makes him lose control of his mind, brings him to a new world free from such agony that he can't believe he's that far away from reality. Niall's too far to kiss now, and his mouth is gaped only for air that he lacks of. Niall fucks him good enough that he shouldn't waste seconds trying to get it all back when Niall's capable of making him breathless in one motion.

Niall gasps softly when he gets a deeper inch inside of sweet Zayn. His breath shakes out from his throat, hand skimming up the ridges of his hipbone and ribs. His thumb outlines his protruding hipbone, waiting for Zayn to lose his mind to this one touch.

He's falling apart in the seams; his mind is being ripped open, explored through like there's so much more than just Niall in there. He wishes he could say so, but he's all he can think about at. His mind can't reach anymore levels of abstract than Niall.

"I love you." The words fall from his lips, in a short moan so quiet he barely finished his sentence. It was broken with his breath and shaky low voice as he trembled. His body laid out for Niall; he could detail every outline of his bones and the dips of his muscles, see his chest heave for air. The nature of Zayn's body shouldn't drive him wild.

"I love you too." Niall finds a moment to smile amidst their exhaustion and flushed faces. "A lot."

Zayn chuckles through the words, removing his hips from Niall's. The bed sheet is soft under his skin, warms his heart to be in the moment where he could wake up and see someone there for him and end the night with somebody to hold. He loves when Niall crawls over his splayed body, melts when he marks him everywhere on his torso. Zayn didn't think spots on his abdomen were thinks to lose his mind to; it's the way his lips press on his skin, leaves a wet touch that his breath cools. Shivers bloom from the base of his spine, makes his body writhe under Niall's.

"We can go all night, can't we?" Niall asks under his breath. The way he smiles at Zayn doesn't say anything but a yes.

Zayn holds his cheeks with his hands, palm emitting hot against Niall's ruddy cheeks. "Mhm. Only if you go easy on yourself."

"Me?" Niall laughs, licks his plump pink lips before his teeth press down. "I think you should watch what you say."

"What are you going to do?" Zayn's hands go down to his neck.

"I'm g'na make sweet love to you." Niall blinks slowly. "I'm gonna be the heat to your trembling body, and be the one you hold onto when I make you come with my name falling from your lips."

"Niall," Zayn nudges Niall's mouth against his. His fingers wrap in Niall's hair, pulling him deeper and deeper until Zayn'll find himself drowning in his lust.

* * *

Practices became harder the same time Eggsy started taking three careful steps away from his wheelchair. The barres are still there for his support and studio needs. Zayn and Niall watch him progress into a better shaped man during an hour on Saturdays while Eggsy watched his friends train.

Zayn refrained from performing any significant moves and demonstrated half-assed arches and lifts. Niall is growing better right before his eyes, carefully in his own pace like Zayn was never able to have. It's something he has to let go and accept that it's done him wrong to influence him who is today. And the present is beautiful.

"Piss break." Niall bites his lips.

"Yeah. Please," Zayn gestures him away. "Before you leak on the floor."

"Help me up, asshole." Eggsy watches the blur that runs past him to the washroom. "Need to piss too."

"Okay." Niall hops on one foot. He's the shoulder for Eggsy's to hold. Steady steps is what's good for Eggsy. A 2-minute walk to the washroom is bad for Niall's bladder.

Fast metabolism means Zayn is fast at losing the muscles that he used to have in important places without training. Doesn't mean the memory of his nerves don't know how to send messages to lift up a leg or two off the floor.

He couldn't jump in all of the sudden into his first solo performance that gave him the title soloist. The same choreography done by Tsiskaridze on  _Narcissus,_ the same choreography that made him last 5 years compared to one. It was the choreography by Galina Ulanova that people could barely take on, let alone master like he did enough to be compared to Nikolai Tsiskaridze himself. Baby steps—baby step with his right foot on his toes, then left foot on his toes. His arch is weak: horrible, one teacher would say if he saw his footwork. He could feel a sharp pain close to a cramp on the flat of his feet. But he can't let it mess him up.

His leg easily reaches up to the ceiling, straight as it could be after 13 years of training. Suddenly, he let his body flip upside down with all his weight pouring down on the arm holding him up. A breath escapes him with a smile when he executes a graceful flip, feet landing in third position when he brings his legs back down, 1 after the other. It hurts, but there's a thrill that he misses—an adrenaline rush.

His right foot lines behind his left heel. He wasn't in gymnastics, jumping and flipping on a beam but he remembers this frequent feet position in the beautiful sport. It wasn't encouraged when he had choices of 5 other ones in ballet. Yet, it was easy to take one step forward after another. With enough speed, he turns as he moves forward, folds his arms in, 360 turns with his feet constantly moving after another.

He felt like the element of air, a gale coursing through peaceful deserts. In his last _pirouette_ , he's on his toes—immediately spinning like a ceramic figure locked in a music box before extending his leg behind him, slowly bending down, breath taking its time to catch up to him. It was fluid arm movements at the end, body moving like a serpent. He drops his arm from the air—along with all the muscles that make his torso stern. He falls gracefully on to the floor, his left leg bent in while his other leg was extended, arm reaching for the sky. It finishes with his drained energy inviting him to rest on the cold, wood floor.

"Zayn?" His voice is soft, but Zayn responds to him like a hawk hearing the cry of its children for its meal. The confusion wreaks from Niall when he doesn't know whether to smile or let the astonishment of Zayn finally showing a move far more complex than feet positions.

There's running on the wood. Zayn doesn't realize until last minute—Niall's down his level with his arm around his back. "I-I'm okay?" Zayn tries to confirm. Instead he sounds confused more than ever at the comforting hand on his thigh right by his knee.

"That was really you..." Once Niall's quiet laugh ends, and the moments of looking at Zayn's eyelashes and lips, he ducks down for a taste of his lips. They're always unbelievable soft to Niall. Every time they kiss, Niall spends his time getting to know Zayn's lips all over again, learn what he likes because it's never-ending.

"I can't kiss you," Eggsy cuts in with a stern voice that echoes through the studio that only hums because of the heater and generator. "But well done, you dick. I actually almost cried."

What it was is reminiscing the good old days that reminded Zayn of what he can really do.

And he realized that it's all okay. He's okay.

**Author's Note:**

> i totally almost forgot disclaimer. but... it's obvious, none of these companies r actually associated with this fic...i probably lack knowledge of the company life but i tried my best reading everything there is to be said about being a dancer and working in companies.


End file.
